The Art of Bart
by TheHeavenlyBuddy
Summary: Things turn around for Bart Simpson when he gets a brand new art teacher who appreciates his sick sense of creativity. However, when things go awry, Bart must take a stand and help her get her life back together.
1. The New Teacher

Disclaimer - The rights to _The Simpsons_ and its characters belong to Matt Groening, the Fox Broadcasting Company, and any others associated with the show. No profit is being made from this fanfiction, this is all just for fun :)

 **So while working on the chapters of Bob to the Future, I was inspired to write, yet, another story! Except, for The Simpsons. The entire premise for this story comes from two places, however. My main source was from a user on the Simpsons forum site "NoHomers". He created his own version of the season 25 episode "What to Expect When Bart's Expecting", and he managed to come up with a better story in 2 paragraphs than the show did in a whole 20 minutes. I loved the idea so much that I asked him if I could use it for a story, and he allowed me to. So first of all, I'd like to thank him for the idea :D Ever since I read that post, I've been eagerly wanting to bring it to life (well, not to life necessarily, but you know what I mean)**

 **Since I didn't want this to cut in between Bob to the Future (And I'm sure you guys didn't want it to either) I decided to write a few chapters of the story beforehand, so I can post them on a schedule. I initially wanted to have the entire story done by October 1, but I don't think that's possible, so I decided to see what I get done by then, post those finished ones on an "every other day" schedule. Once I've pumped all the already finished ones out, I'll finish the last few chapters whenever I can. There are supposed to be about eighteen chapters of the story. (however, this is not a definite number, and can easily change)**

 **So without further ado, I present to you: The Art of Bart**

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - The New Teacher**

"All rise, Springfield Elementary's faculty meeting is now in session!"

"Seymour, we don't need to _rise,_ it's a faculty meeting for god's sake..."

"Well, pardon me for being formal."

If you couldn't already tell from the previous lines of dialogue, Springfield Elementary was having another one of its monthly afterschool faculty meetings. Principal Skinner, Mrs. Krabappel, Miss Hoover, Mr. Largo, Groundskeeper Willie, Otto Mann, and Lunchlady Doris all sat down in chairs that were lined up to form a small circle. Faculty meetings were never something to look forward to, especially when Skinner was leading. He had a habit of being excessively over-the-top and "nitpicky" when it came to arranging the meetings. Hell, he even had a _seating arrangement._ Everything always had to be perfect with this one.

"Now, first order of business." Skinner announces, flipping through a small agenda booklet in his hands. "Hm... Where's the page... Ah-ha!" He pulls out a ballpoint pen and begins writing on the page "It's the 14th, correct?"

No response. Everyone continued to wear their bored, uninterested expressions as they stared at Seymour quietly.

"I'll take that as a yes..." He says, as he writes the date. He looks back at his fellow faculty members "Ok, first on the agenda: Hoover, you were in charge of snacks?"

"I didn't bring anything." Ms. Hoover replies, cigarette in hand.

"What do you mean you didn't bring anything? It was your turn this month, says so on the calendar!" Skinner gets up and points at a small dry erase board hanging on the wall. On it, had a list of months with faculty members' names on each one. He points to the current month, which is September.

Ms. Hoover examines the board from her seat, and raises her eyebrow. "That says "Otto" on September! I'm October."

"Yeah, but don't you remember how we prohibited Otto from bringing meeting snacks since _last year's_ incident." Skinner says with a grimace.

"Hey, but you've gotta admit, those edibles were pretty wicked!" The bus driver says in his usual laid-back tone of voice.

"I still don't get how you snuck cannabis in those things. I thought you said your mother prepared them!" Largo hisses.

"Mom makes the brownies, I _finish_ the brownies." Otto explains.

Skinner sighs. "Well I guess we won't be having snacks... For the third month in a row..." Instantly, he brightens up "But that's not a problem! The meeting is still going swimmingly! Now, let's do our check-ups: Edna, how's the 4th grade class doing?"

"We started fractions last week, and 2 students already had to be sent home early for traumatic brain injury." Mrs. Krabappel replies.

"Great! How about you, Elizabeth?" He continues, facing the teacher.

"Well, Ralph only got 3 crayons stuck up his nose this week, so that's a record."

"Mmm." Skinner murmurs, as he continues writing on the agenda. "Largo, how's the school band?"

"Hm, I suppose we're getting better..." Largo remarks "I just wish those kids knew how to play in harmony! One half's playing in "C", and the other half's in "G"! Not to mention that Simpson girl is repeatedly trying to show up every student with her over-the-top saxophone solos! Then there's the-"

"Enough information, Dewey. I wanted a 'yes' or 'no', not a screenplay." Skinner interrupts, Largo rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in response. "Willie, the schoolyard's been looking greener than ever! A little bit too green, if you ask me..."

"Well, maybe instead'a complainin' you can do it yourself!" The groundskeeper fumes in his heavy Scottish accent. He gets up. "That's it! I quit! This is the last time ol' Willie is pushed around by you people!" He storms out of the door, and the room is silent.

However, it doesn't take Willie more than 5 seconds to return.

"Ya gotta take me back, Skinner! Ya just gotta!" Willie cries, getting on his knees "I can change! I can _change_!"

Seymour sighs. "I'll see what I can do, Willie..." He says with an uninterested expression.

"Ah, thank ya! Thank ya, lad! I promise, I'll be better!"

"Mmhm.." Skinner mumbles, looking to the side. "Otto, picking and dropping the kids is going fine, right?"

"Oh, yeah, totally man!" Otto replies "In fact, this morning, they were so well behaved! Those kids didn't say a word on that bus! All they did was cough every 5 seconds and ask me for their pills... And is it just me, or did those kids grow up real fast? All of them either had white hair or no hair."

Skinner covers his face, looking down angrily "You picked up the Springfield Retirement Castle residents again, didn't you?"

Otto snaps his fingers. "Ah, that explains everything!"

"You're tellin' me..." Edna murmurs.

We get a small flashback to the day at school. Edna is sitting at her desk, filling out some documents, while the many residents of the retirement castle are sitting in her classroom. Abraham Simpson then raises his hand.

"Teacher?" Grampa says, in his innocent, elderly voice.

Edna sighs. "Yes?" She responds.

"When is the staff bringing lunch? I've been craving figs and applesauce since we got here!" He whines.

The flashback ends, and we return back to the faculty meeting.

"Let's not make the same mistake again, Otto." Skinner orders.

"Don't worry, Skinner-dude, it won't happen again!" Otto assures the principal "Next time, I'll take those seniors to the retirement castle."

"Not the senior citizens, the students!" Skinner says angrily.

"Take the students to the retirement castle? Ok." Otto says. Skinner groans.

"Doris, I trust that you're serving appropriate student meals." Skinner says to the lunch lady.

"Depends, what's your definition of 'appropriate student meals'?" Doris queries.

"Edible and causes minimal illness." Skinner answers.

"Appropriate as they'll ever be." Doris assures.

Skinner smiles, glad that at least _one_ thing went right.

"Well, I think that just about wraps up this meeting-" Edna quickly states, before Skinner interrupts her.

"Not so fast! We're forgetting something." Seymour says.

"I don't think we're forgetting anything." Hoover states. The other members frantically nod in response.

"Ahem, we can't close off this meeting with out a BDH!"

They sigh. Not another BDH...

"Oh great... BDH... My _favorite_ part of every meeting." Largo sarcastically remarks.

"Mmm.. BDH... **B** art **D** iscssion **H** our..." Hoover groans, placing her cigarette back in her mouth.

"Bart Discussion Hour" (or BDH, for short) was Skinner's favorite thing about every faculty meeting. Just like how the name states, they spend an hour discussing the hellraiser himself, Bartholomew JoJo Simpson. Though, can you really call it a _discussion_ when it's just Skinner grousing about Bart for 60 minutes while the others stare at the clock?

"I still don't see why we have to have these things, Seymour." Edna says "We get it, you hate Bart and you think he's a delinquent. What else is new?"

"I agree with the lass! Why do we got tah blether about some kid all the time?!" Willie asks, outraged.

"Of course we have these things! We need to put that little miscreant in his place!" The principal grumbles.

"And you think whining about it will do anything?" Doris asks, placing her hands on her hips.

"Actually, Doris, it does a lot." Skinner states "You see, by constantly bringing it to your attention, it will further motivate all of you to take down Bart Simpson once and for all!"

"Or here's an idea, we _don't_ take him down." Edna suggests "He's a kid, Seymour. Just let him tire himself out. By the time he's 14 he'll be too busy with girls anyways..." She pulls out her own cigarette from her pocket and lights it.

"Krabappel has a point. If Simpson just had something to preoccupy him, he'd eventually stop. Too bad that's never going to happen..." Hoover adds.

"And that's _exactly_ why we should teach him a lesson!" Skinner demands, completely missing the point. "Now, to start our BHD, let's-"

However, the discussion is immediately halted, when a very familiar staff member barges into the room, clad in his iconic blue suit and red tie.

 _ **"SKIN-NEEEER!"**_

If it wasn't obvious already, the infamous Superintendent Chalmers had entered: quite possibly the only person who could put Skinner in his place.

"S-Superintendent Chalmers!" Seymour hesitates, practically shaking at the mere sight of the superintendent "What are you doing here?"

"Hmph... I see you're having another one of your... Faculty meetings." Chalmers made abrupt pauses in his statement.

"Wh-Why yes!" Skinner confirms, forcing a grin "Y-You see.. We were just getting started with our BDH-"

"Forget the BDH! We have an important issue on our hands! We don't have time to talk about some student!" Chalmers insists, relieving many of the faculty members

"Of course!" Skinner frantically agrees "Erm... What issue exactly, if I may ask?"

Chalmers puts his hands behind his back as he begins sternly pacing around the room.

"If you haven't already heard, our current art teacher, Mrs. Barbash has retired."

"Retired? I thought she was 32!" Skinner exclaims.

"Yes, well according to her, teaching at Springfield Elementary has aged her 40 more years than it should've." Chalmers explains. "Because of this, we now no longer have an art teacher, and while I usually wouldn't consider this a big deal, I can't have students' angry parents on my ass threatening to sue me for putting their students in an 'inadequate learning environment'. So maybe, let's discuss _**THAT!**_ "

Skinner jumps at the abrupt exclamation. "Y-Yes! Yes, of course! Heh... Any suggestions?"

"Why don't I just teach art?" Doris suggests.

"Well, Doris, you're already the lunch lady." Skinner explains.

"I can do both, it's no problem." She responds.

"No more multitasking for you, you always get mixed up." Skinner says "Remember what happened last time you tried filling in for Willie as custodian while serving lunch? You accidentally put Borax in the meat loaf used ground beef to wash the dirty rags."

"Who said that was on accident?" Doris inquires, crossing her arms with a stern glare. Skinner merely stares at her with a blank face.

Edna huffs out a cloud of smoke as she removes the cigarette from her mouth. "Why not just remove art altogether? It's not like the kids'll need it in the future."

"Of course you'll need art in the future, Edna!" Skinner claims.

"Oh, really?" Edna says "Tell me one job that requires you to make a 'hand turkey' or sculpt a crappy clay mug for Father's Day."

Skinner is just about to respond before he stops himself abruptly, unsure _how_ to respond.

Edna smirks. "My point exactly."

"Yeah! If ya ask me, we should be teachin' the kids some real life skills, like how to tend to land at some crummy elementary school and live off a $15,000 salary!" Willie barks.

"Now, now. I can see where Skinner's coming from." Largo says, defending the principal "Every child needs some form of the arts in their life. Y'know, if Bill Gates never took art class in school, he wouldn't be _half_ as successful as he is today!"

"Well you're one to talk, Beethoven..." Hoover jeers, rolling her eyes.

"Hmph! I know I'm supposed to take that as an insult, but I'll have you know, Beethoven was one of the best, if not _the_ best composer to create music that graced ears across the world!" Dewey states proudly.

"Yeah, all but his..." Edna whispers with smug grin to Elizabeth, both of them snicker in response. However, Largo didn't take too kindly to their sick sense of humor.

"Oh, you've done it **_now!_** " Largo fumes, steam practically coming out of his ears.

All the staff members began to bicker and quarrel loudly (all but Otto and Chalmers. Chalmers because he was too busy staring in disgust and Otto because- well, he's Otto. He probably didn't even notice the arguing). This endless bickering goes on for a whole minute before Superintendent Chalmers is unable to stomach another second of it.

"Would you all just _**SHUT UP?!**_ " He yells, bursting with fury. Instinctively, they all zip their lips and face him with wide, alarmed eyes.

Still with a booming tone, Chalmers exclaims, "How about we just hire a _new_ art teacher, in stead of squabbling like a bunch of parrots?!"

The room is silent for a few more seconds.

"... I was _just_ about to say that!" Skinner declares.

"Oh, like hell you were!" Edna hisses.

"Were too!" Skinner responds. And before they knew it, the argument starts back up again.

"Woah... Dude... Is it just me or did the ceiling disappear...?" Otto groggily says, his eyes half open as he stares up at the intact stealing with a dazed expression.

Chalmers sighs "I'd fire all of you if I could."

* * *

 ** _The Following Day..._**

The bell had just rung and Springfield Elementary's rambunctious 4th graders were all in the art room. Usually, this would be around the time art class began, but seeing as there was no teacher to monitor them, the kids did however they pleased. Unfortunately, a lack of adult supervision and 4th graders didn't mix quite well.

As per mentioned, all the kids ran around, doing whatever they felt like. Some were throwing paper airplanes, some were dragging paintbrushes across the walls, hell, some were even pouring paint over themselves! To be more specific, Lewis and Richard were flinging paint at each other with their brushes, Sherri and Terri were just sitting under one of the art tables with their eyes glued on a "Tamagotchi"-esque device they were playing with, Nelson was practically drowning Martin in a can of red paint, only occasionally lifting his head from there to deliver a sharp punch to his face, Wendell was vomiting in the trash as usual, and of course, Bart Simpson was causing mayhem with his accomplice, Milhouse Van Houten.

Currently, Bart was using his red spray paint can to draw a rather crude picture of his principal saying "I STINK!" in a speech bubble on the classroom wall, laughing as he did so. Milhouse carried Bart over his head, allowing him to make the display as large and as noticeable as possible. Milhouse strained in pain, unable to carry Bart for any longer

"B-Bart! I've been carrying you for the last 10 minutes!" Milhouse whines "How much longer is this gonna take?!"

"Don't have a cow, man!" Bart replies "I'm just about finished, anyways. Just gotta add a few touches... Can't forget those nose hairs either... Ha ha!" Bart vigorously shakes the can and continues his drawing.

Meanwhile, Skinner is approaching the art door, except he's not alone. Next to him stood an unknown individual, a female to be precise. While I'm not permitted to tell you too much, I can tell you the female was relatively shorter than the principal, and... That's all... What? You expect me to give away the mystery guest in the first chapter? Dream on...

"They should be in here..." Skinner says to the person, who follows him by his side to the art room. Before entering, Skinner stops to peer through the vertical door window, where he could see the boisterous and crazed students defacing the school's property. He sighs "It's a minefield out there... You sure about this?"

They nod in response.

"Are you sure? Remember, once you're in, there's no going back..."

They nod once more.

"Hm.. You're brave, soldier... Reminds me of my time back in 'Nam.. Witnessing such brutal deaths... Watching all those heroes fall to their feet... It was practically unbearable... Why, I can almost feel myself there again..."

Right before he goes into another one of his PTSD flashbacks, he is interrupted by himself, as he nearly forgets who he was talking to.

"Oh! Heh... Sorry about that..." Seymour nervously grins, scratching the back of his head. The unknown character smiles in response.

"Now, let's go in, shall we?" Principal Skinner says, looking down at his associate, who holds Skinner's hand as the two begin to enter.

The kids are still acting up, that is, until they begin to hear the wiggling of the doorknob. They immediately stop in their tracks and gasp.

"Someone's coming!" One student exclaims. Another one gets a closer look at the window and spots Skinner "It's Skinner!" They warn.

Swiftly, the students take their seats as if nothing happened, except Bart, who was still piggybacking over Milhouse.

"Oh, man!" Bart gasps, losing his balance on Milhouse's shoulders. Milhouse tried to support Bart, but before he knew it, he was too losing his balance, and the two boys topple over onto the ground.

"Oof!" Bart says, hitting the floor. Milhouse moans in pain, lying on the floor practically lifeless. Thinking quickly, Bart dropped the paint can on the floor and rushed to his seat. However, when he set the can down, it began to roll towards Milhouse's sprawled out hand.

That's about when Principal Skinner had opened the door and entered the art room, the other person stayed outside.

"Hello, children!" Skinner greets.

"Hi, Principal Skinner." They all carelessly reply in unison.

"Kids, I have an incredible surprise for you all." Skinner announces. _This_ gets the kids excited.

"Cool!" Richard says "Is school getting canceled?"

"No." Skinner replies

"Is homework canceled?" Sherri and Terri ask simultaneously

"No." Skinner repeats

"Mmya! Are we replacing the teachers with robots?" Database inquires in his strange, computery tone of voice. Skinner nods his head no.

"Will we be receiving extra homework? Fingers crossed!" Martin excitedly asks. It doesn't take Nelson too long to punch him in the gut "Don't give him any ideas, Poindexter!" He growls.

"Are you getting fired?" Bart asks. The whole class bursts into laughter at quip, while Skinner merely rolls his eyes in annoyance.

"Hmph... No I am _not_ Bart..." Seymour mumbles, glaring at the student "I won't be leaving for a long time..."

"Alright. Just try not to die in the process. What are you, like, 80? Or am I being too generous?" Bart smirks. The class' laughs only heighten in volume. Skinner tries his best not to lose it, clenching both his teeth and his fists. He growls under his breath.

"Grrr... Simpson..." The principal murmurs. He sighs and tries his best to regain his composure "Well... Now that you kids are done guessing, I think it's about time I tell you all the surprise."

Each student moves forward in their seat, grinning with anticipation. I mean, what could be better than no school, no homework, or robot teachers?

Skinner clasps his hands together, smiling as he did so.

"Students... We've hired a new art teacher!"

Aaaand the excitement's gone. The students' beaming faces quickly become straight, uninterested faces. Talk about anticlimactic...

"Kids, I'd like you to meet your _new_ art instructor, Ms. Tindol." Skinner announces, as the mysterious character emerges from the shadows and reveals herself to the students.


	2. Dead Painter's Society

Disclaimer - The rights to _The Simpsons_ and its characters belong to Matt Groening, the Fox Broadcasting Company, and any others associated with the show. No profit is being made from this fanfiction, this is all just for fun :)

* * *

 **Chapter 2 - Dead Painter's Society**

"Kids, I'd like you to meet your new art instructor, Ms. Tindol."

Once she heard her cue, the mystery character slowly entered the art room wearing a pleasant smile on her face.

"Hello there." Ms. Tindol greets, in a somewhat demure tone of voice. Ms. Tindol resembled a young woman in her mid to late 20's. She had her black hair in the style of a pixie cut, which complimented her dark complexion and currant red lips. She was clad in a black turtleneck sweater, baby blue jeans (which she wore over her broad hips), and black shoes. "It's nice to meet you all." She adds

Skinner continues talking. "Ms. Tindol used to teach in Shelbyville for 3 years, until she moved here to Springfield. Starting out, she _blah blah blah, blah blah, blah blah blah."_

That's all Bart could hear at this point. Skinner's speech became nothing but a blur to him, as he stared at him, uninterested in what he had to say.

" _Oh great... Another art teacher..._ " Bart groans to himself internally " _Just another adult to bitch about every little thing I do..._ " Bart was known for having a distaste for his teachers, but Mrs. Barbash always found a way to get under his skin. Everyday it was either "stop talking, bart" or "sit down, bart" or "you can't draw that on school property, bart". Needless to say, Barbash wasn't a very big fan of Bart's "creativity", and he didn't think this new replacement would appreciate Bart's unhinged, deranged imagination any more.

"... Which is why I know she'll make an amazing teacher!" Skinner ends off his long, tedious speech. He faces the new instructor. "Ms. Tindol, I trust you can take it from here?"

Tindol nods politely, stepping in front of the principal.

"Be good for your new teacher, kids!" Skinner directs, approaching the door "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to- What the?!"

Unsurprisingly, Bart's flamboyant display caught Skinner's eye. I mean, how could you miss it? The crass doodle was nearly the size of the whole wall. Skinner bitterly approaches it, wearing a stern glare.

"Hmph... Who is responsible for this?!" Skinner fumes, facing the students sitting down. No one made a peep. "Well?"

That's when Milhouse, who is still sprawled across the floor, unconscious, lets out another painful moan. This gets Skinner's attention and he looks down to see the blue-haired dork, his arms and legs out. As per mentioned (in the last chapter), Bart's spray can had rolled right into his hand, giving Skinner the impression that he was responsible for the artwork

"Van Houten, I should've known..." Skinner says, looking down with disdain. "While this looks and seems _exactly_ like something Bart Simpson would do, I assume it's you because the can's in your hand. You must've fainted because you heard me coming, and realized there was no use in escaping, so you faked your death. Pathetic..."

He picks up the now insensate Milhouse by the arm and drags him out to his office, shutting the door on his way.

Now that Skinner was gone, the new teacher slowly makes her way to the front of the class, her shoes tapping with each step. She places her hands behind her back, still with a grin.

"Good morning! This is 4th grade, correct?" Ms. Tindol asks for clarification.

"Yes, ma'am!" Martin answers, his hands folded on his desk. "And down the hall is the 5th grade, and if you turn right, enter hallway B, go up the stairs, and walk 3 doors down, you'll find 3rd grade! A common misconception is that 3rd grade is located on the 1st floor through commons A, but that's actually where-"

"Can it, dweeb!" Nelson barks, shoving the nerd off his seat.

"..." Ms. Tindol stares with a straight face, unsure how to react to that. "... Erm... So, how about we-"

"Hey, Ms. Tinfoil!" Bart shoots his hand up and waves it frantically to get the teacher's attention. A few students titter at the deliberate mispronunciation. It was obvious Bart was trying to test her patience.

Ms. Tindol looks over at Bart. He was expecting an aggravated glare, or even an eye roll, but rather he got a small chuckle. Huh, that's weird...

"It's _Tindol_ , actually." She says in a calm voice. "May I ask your name?"

"Bart Simpson, what's it to you, Tinkle?" The 10 year old replies with a smirk on his face. The classroom erupts in laughter once more, while Ms. Tindol keeps the same expression she had

"Hm... Bart. Well, it's very nice to meet you. It's very nice to meet _all_ of you." The young woman says, now facing the entire class. "I hope to learn all your names by the end of this week. Luckily, I've already gotten a head start..." She shifts her glance back to Bart, who just rolls his eyes in response.

It just wasn't right... Bart was pulling all the stops: interruptions, name calling, all his best material, in fact. But for some reason, he still wasn't getting to her! This was _Bart Simpson_ , the devil in the blue shorts, the same child who was thought to be an _urban legend_ by the "Teacher of the Year Foundation". Why wasn't she pulling her hair out or seeking therapy? Was he doing something wrong?

"Now, let's see what's on the agenda..." Tindol makes her way to the teacher's desk. She taps her chin "Hm... Where is it?" She asks herself

"Oh! Oh! Ms. Tindol!" Martin exclaims, waving his hand around "The lesson plans are on the second left drawer, under attendance sheets!"

The class groans. Martin seemed to _love_ being teacher's pet.

"Thank you very much, erm... What's your-"

"Martin Harrison Carter Callahan Hayes Prince Jr., but please, refer to me as Martin, ma'am!" Martin says "I am pleased to make your acquaintance!" He bows down in his seat.

"Thank you, Martin." Tindol says, finishing her sentence. She opens up the drawer and removes the lesson plans, which were, indeed, peeking out from under the attendance papers. She flips through to get to today's date

"Hmm, let's see." She looks through the booklet of assignments and quietly reads through what was planned for the next few days.

" _Finger painting, paper plate faces, papier-mache balloons, watching paint dry...?_ " She pauses in perplexity, she just didn't know what to say. For an art class, these assignments seemed pretty uninspired and predictable. Not to mention the last one was just plain lazy. She flipped to the next page, and it was practically the same thing, just with a slightly new coat of paint (no pun intended) " _Palm painting, paper plate monster faces, papier-mache the person next to you, paint over the paint from yesterday and watch **that** dry... Yeesh... A bit too orthodox for my liking."_. Ms. Tindol closes the agenda and puts it back into the desk's drawer.

"Y'know what, forget about the lesson plans." She says to the class, clasping her hands in front of her. "How about today in art, we do something a little different?"

"Aw, sweet!" Nelson grins. "Football in stead of art!"

"Mmm... Not exactly.." Tindol states. "Class, I want you all to paint how you feel."

The class goes silent. They weren't completely sure what to say.

"Paint how I- What the hell does that even _mean?!_ " Bart blurts.

"It means, paint how you _feel._ " Ms. Tindol repeats. "You all take as much time as you need. I presume you all know where the canvases and easels are. I'll walk around to see what you guys have come up with, good luck." And with that, Ms. Tindol takes her seat at her new desk, pulls out her Walkman and sketchbook, and begins drawing while listening to music.

Every student (but the iconic yellow spike-head) got up to take a canvas and easel from the art closet. Once they had set up their stations, they got right to work. Bart stayed put at his desk, his head resting on his palm.

"This blows..." He mumbles. "I'd rather be in Krabappel's class. Even _then_ I could get away with not paying attention..."

That's when Bart feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns around and is met with the portly nerd himself.

"Hello, Bart!" Martin Prince greets.

"What do you want?" Bart replies

"Well, I was just on my way to get a canvas and easel when I noticed you haven't taken one yet!" Martin says "So I took the liberty of bringing one to you!" He hands Bart a canvas and places a wooden easel by his seat.

"Gee, thanks..." Bart sardonically says, snatching the canvas.

"Would you like me to get you some brushes? Maybe some paints?"

"I'm fine..." Bart replies grimly, standing up and walking to a free space in the room. He sets his easel up and places the canvas onto it. He walks over to the supply table and picks out a large paintbrush and a color palette. Bart stares at his blank canvas with aggravation.

"Yeah, I'll paint what I feel alright..." He grumbles. He dips his brush onto the palette and begins aggressively flinging paint onto the canvas. One can only imagine what sick, twisted idea the 4th grader has contrived...

* * *

 ** _20 Minutes Later_**

Ms. Tindol was still working on some sketches in her sketchbook. She peers over at the clock and sees how much time has passed. Tindol then removes her headphones and closes her book, as she gets up and begins walking around the classroom.

"Let's see what everyone has done in the last 20 or so minutes." She announces in her tranquil tone. "I excitedly await to see what you students have come up with!" She smiles.

The first student she stops by is Nelson Muntz.

"Hello there... Nelson, is it?" Tindol asks.

"Don't wear it out, ma'am." Nelson responds, his eyes fixed on his canvas.

"And what do you have here?" She asks, bending down a bit so she's at the same eye level as the student. When she looks at Nelson's canvas, she sees it's covered in hundreds of paint splatters, all ranging from red to yellow to blue.

"I call it... 'More Than Meets the Eye'." Nelson explains. "You see, those paint splatters are supposed to represent my inner turmoil... Or, something. I dunno." He continues painting.

"Hm... I see.." Tindol mumbles, lifting herself back up and making her way to the next student. " _Well, that was interesting... But I suppose as artists, we don't all see things the same way others do..._ "

The next student she gets to is Lewis Clark.

"How about you?" Ms. Tindol says "What are you making?"

"Well, I dunno." Lewis replies "I'm just doin' what Nelson was doin'!" He points over to Nelson, who was standing rather close to him.

Tindol frowns a bit "Oh... Well, it's nice to see you were, erm... _Inspired_ by Nelson." She forces a smile, and makes her way to the twins. " _Ok, we're off to a bit of a rocky start, but these next 2 should be better. I've heard young girls tend to be more experimental than young boys..._ "

Ms. Tindol walks behind the two duplicates and looks down at them. "Sherri and Terri, correct?"

"Actually, _I'm_ Terri and _she's_ Sherri!" Terri corrects.

"Yeah, get it right!" Sherri adds.

"Well, what are you guys- ... Oh..." She takes a look at the canvas, and of course, it's just tossed paint like the 2 boys'. Though there was one difference the teacher noticed, in stead of using colors like red, yellow, or blue, Sherri and Terri used pink and purple.

She smiles a bit "So, girls... What was the reason for your color palette choice? Did you pick those colors because of the tone your piece is trying to send, or maybe it's a creative choice!"

"No." Terri simply says

"We just like pink and purple!" Sherri further states, as she continues working on their piece.

Ms. Tindol is quiet for a moment, and then proceeds to murmur, similar to how Marge Simpson would.

"Hmmm..." She mumbles. She just didn't get it, these were all boys and girls of the ages 9 and 10. Aren't elementary students supposed to be imaginative? She thought kids liked coming up with outlandish, yet endearing ideas, not replicating what they saw someone else do. Ms. Tindol rushes through the other students to see if at least _one_ person came up with something different. She goes to Richard.

"How about you?" She says, in a somewhat nervous tone

Richard shows her his canvas. Sure enough, it's paint splatters. Without hesitation, Ms. Tindol rushes to the next student, which happens to be Jaffee. She looks at his canvas, paint splatters. She goes to the _next_ student, Adrian Belew and, surprise surprise, _paint splatters_.

She looks around the whole class, it was paint splatter galore! Paint splatter here, paint splatter there, what kind of madness _was_ this?! In her quest to find a single student who hadn't thrown some colors onto a canvas, she concludes on Wendell. She slowly trudges to him, her back slouched and her face showing loss of hope.

"Mmm.. Let me guess.. Paint splatters?" She asks in a monotone voice. She looks at his canvas, and sees a large burst of greens, oranges, and browns right in the middle, almost as if he had shot his paint with a bazooka. "I should've known..."

"Actually..." The albino boy croaks out "That's not paint..." He then holds onto his grumbling tummy and moans "Ohhh.."

It didn't take too long for Ms. Tindol to figure out what he meant.

"Oh, dear.." She puts her hand over her mouth in shock. "Erm... Heh... N-Nice use of mixed media, I suppose...?" She scratches her head and averts her eyes.

"Oh! Ms. Tindol! Ms. Tindol!" Martin chimes, raising his hand whilst jumping up and down. She turns to face the eager student. "Look at my piece! I worked ever so hard on it!"

"Hm, ok." Ms. Tindol makes her way to Martin. " _Mmm, lemme guess... scribbles in stead of splats?_ " She says in her head.

She walks to Martin and looks at his canvas, expecting to see another unoriginal creation, but was rather surprised at what she was met with.

"Oh, wow!" She exclaims in surprise, standing back a bit.

On Martin's canvas was quite possibly the most detailed, realistic, and advanced piece of artwork she had ever seen a 4th grader, heck, maybe even a _person_ create! The painting was of the classic "Michelangelo's David", except he had replaced the sculpture's head with a drawing of his _own_ head.

"I call it... 'Martin-langelo's David'!" Martin continues. "As you can see, it's my personal rendition of the famous sculpture by Michelangelo."

Ms. Tindol continues to stare in awe. There was no better word to describe it but perfect. He didn't miss a single detail... And I mean a _single_ detail.. Which in this case, wasn't a good idea, what with the rather "excessive" piece added to the sculpture...

"Erm... It's rather... 'detailed'.." Tindol mutters, she can feel her face flushing a bit.

"Why, of course!" Martin says. "I made sure to do the original grace by adding every single little detail, no exceptions!"

Ms. Tindol a bit disturbed, to say the least. Yet, she's unable to look away.

But that's when a large, red paint splat from an unknown origin lands smack dab on Martin's painting. (Thankfully, right between its thighs) This startles both the teacher and the student.

Martin gasps, horrified. "AH! M-My magnum opus! It's _ruined!_ " He breaks down. "Oh, what have I done to deserve this?!"

More paint flies around, hitting just about every inch of the room. Ms. Tindol looks for the source, and as expected, it was Bart Simpson. However, for once, this didn't seem to be deliberate. Bart was just working on his piece, but all his paint was soaring off the canvas because of the excruciating force he was applying. Every time he'd slash his brush across the canvas, trails of paint would shoot every which way in response. That's when she realized, she still hasn't seen what Bart had to offer, so she walks over to him.

"Bart, is everything ok?" She asks, standing next to the young boy. He only grunts in response. "Do you mind if I see your piece?"

"Whatever, it's a free country." He responds, putting his paintbrush to his side.

Tindol walks behind Bart and bends down to get a better look. What she's met with is another one of Bart's crass drawings. It depicted Bart as a king, wearing a crown and a velvet mantle. He stood on a pile of hundreds of crudely drawn skulls. In one hand, he held a scepter, and in another one, he held a skull, bleeding from the bottom. Coincidentally, this particular skull had the hair of Principal Skinner...

Ms. Tindol stares at the piece blankly. "This... Is your piece..?"

"Yeah! You told us to paint what I feel, and this is what I feel! You've got a problem with that, lady?" Bart crosses his arms and faces away.

Ms. Tindol doesn't say a word for a while, she just continues to stare. At the corner of Bart's mouth, a small smirk appeared. " _Heh... I **finally**_ _got to her.."_ He says to himself. He couldn't wait to see what she did. Yell at him, turn him in to the principal, suspend him (fingers crossed for that last one). It almost felt like there was some intense build-up music playing in the background. It just got louder... And louder... And louder... Until...

"... Excellent work, Bart." Tindol says with a small smile. "You are a very creative student."

Bart's proud smirk quickly becomes a baffled stare as his jaw drops "Huh?!" He blurts, facing her with confusion.

She reaches in her pocket and pulls out a small sheet, which was lined up with gold star stickers. She peels one off and places it right on Bart's shirt.

"Keep up the good work." And with that, Ms. Tindol returns to her seat and carries on with her drawing.

Bart still stood still with a bemused expression. He looks down at his orange shirt and pulls the part containing the gold star to his face. He just stares in complete silence.

"A... Gold star?" He mumbles "No teacher's ever given me one of those...". He lets go of his shirt and looks over at Ms. Tindol sitting at her desk. A few seconds later, he faces back at his painting. Ever since he received that compliment, he felt oddly compelled to... Keep going. Usually, with Mrs. Barbash, Bart never felt motivated to continue his artwork (Mainly because he would've been sent to the office by now for "illustrating obscenities"), but for some reason, he wanted to keep going to see what _else_ he could do with his picture.

"Hm... How about I add some color?" He ponders. He pours more colors onto his palette and begins mixing them. He dabs his brush into his mixture of yellow and begins coloring his face in. Happy with the current result, he grins, and continues going.

* * *

It's been about 15 minutes. Martin was still in anguish from watching his piece be destroyed before his very eyes, and most of the students had left their paintings on their easels to fool around until class ended. Bart would usually be part of this group, but rather, he was focused on his painting.

"Hm... Maybe if I add some blue, maybe a little white, I can get a good color for my shoes.." He mumbles to himself, playing with colors on his wooden palette.

Ms. Tindol's eyes shift to the clock, and sees that class is ending in about 2 minutes.

"Class!" She calls out. "I take it most of you are done with your paintings?"

The students nod in response, too busy with their various hobbies to physically face her

She gets up and begins walking to each canvas to collect everyone's pieces to hang up in the back of the room. When she reaches Martin's canvas, she sees he's lying on the floor, mourning over his painting.

"Whhhyyyy?" Martin whines. "All my hard work, RUINED!"

"Oh, Martin, it's not ruined." Ms. Tindol assures him. "If anything, I'd say it was an improvement.." She says under her breath, as she picks up his canvas, along with the others. The last canvas she needed was Bart's. She walks behind him and smiles as she sees his progress.

"Ah, i see you've added color to your painting?" She asks

"I dunno, I guess..." Bart mutters with a shrug.

"Very nice! One tip is to practice on shading." She advises, looking at Bart. Bart rolls his eyes in response, and she picks up his canvas.

She sets all the paintings down on her desk and begins rummaging through the drawers for something to hang them with. Just then, the bell rang

" ** _RING!_** " The second the class heard that, they cheered and ran straight for the door. Martin sulks as he slowly trudges through the door, his head hanging in sorrow. Bart would've been out by now, but he had to wash his palette off. Once he had finished and put it back on the shelf, he rushed to the door, but is halted by the sound of his teacher's voice.

"Oh, Bart?" Tindol says softly. "May you please come over here?"

Bart groans in irritation. "Ugh.." He mutters, as he turns around and walks to her desk. "What is it? I've got better things to do, y'know?"

"I just wanted to talk to you about something."

Bart arches his nonexistent eyebrow. "Oh, I see what's going on here... You're calling me to your desk _now_ because you didn't wanna yell at me in front of the class and look stupid, right?"

"Hm? Of course not." She grins. "What reason do I have to yell at you?"

Bart is about to answer, but keeps his mouth shut quickly.

"I just wanted to say... I'm very proud of your hard work today, Bart." Ms. Tindol says. _Hard work?_ Bart never heard that from any of his teachers! Was there some kind of catch?

"You're... _Proud_ of me?" Bart repeats, wide-eyed.

Tindol nods. "You're a very gifted boy."

Woah, _gifted_?! What is this lady _on_?!

"And don't tell the other students I said this..." Ms. Tindol says quietly. "But your piece was by _far_ the best."

Bart stood there in disbelief. "Pssh, yeah right! Look at Martin's!" He points to his picture on her desk. "Don't you like that better?"

She looks at it for a while. "While Martin is very skilled with his technique, he isn't very original." She looks back at Bart, who now wore a slightly perplexed face.

"Let me explain: Martin is too inclined to following rules, so he can't do something unless he's specifically _told_ to, which is why he had to rip off another painting. But you Bart... You're so free and unrestricted, and I like that!"

"But... Don't you want me to follow the rules?"

Ms. Tindol giggles a bit under her breath. She tenderly places her hands on Bart's shoulders, looks him in the eyes, and says...

"This is art. There _**are**_ no rules."

"..." Bart is silent.

"You are dismissed." She says, turning back to her desk to continue looking for her hangers.

The 4th grader stood there motionless, his mouth hanging open. A class without rules? It sounded like something out of a fantasy. Gradually, his mouth closes, as he looks back down at his star sticker, and back up at his teacher.

Without even turning to face him, Ms. Tindol says, "Bart, you don't want to be late for your next class, do you?"

Still without a word, Bart slowly backs away from his teachers desk, completely dumbstruck. Once he's a few feet from the door, he turns forward and opens it to leave. He shuts the door and returns to his still position.

"No rules..." He mumbles to himself. He begins walking to Mrs. Krabappel's room for his next class. "Hm... I can get behind that..."


	3. Ms Tindol's Opus

Disclaimer - The rights to _The Simpsons_ and its characters belong to Matt Groening, the Fox Broadcasting Company, and any others associated with the show. No profit is being made from this fanfiction, this is all just for fun :)

 _ **Just a heads up, this is a pretty long chapter, and I apologize for that! Halfway through, I wanted to just cut it in half and make the rest of it its own chapter, but I didn't want to rearrange my whole order and plan and risk ruining my story, so please just bear with me, I'll try not to pull this again. :)**_

 _ **(Another note I wanted to add before posting this: Unfortunately, my schedule has been messed up a bit. To make a very long story short, I asked my mother for advice on something (I usually talk to my father for advice, but I had already asked him something similar to this, and he'd get very ticked if I asked him again). However, midway into telling my mom the problem, I began to get nervous and realized I didn't feel comfortable telling her anymore. My mom didn't take too kindly to me wasting her time, so she's taken my cellphone away from me for an unknown duration of time (which has the outline to all the chapters). I'm hoping she changes her mind soon, but that's very unlikely lol... I'm very sorry about this, because it isn't fair to you guys at all. I'll try my best to pump out as many chapters as I can without the outlines. Thank you.)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 3 - Ms. Tindol's Opus**

It was the very next morning in Springfield. Currently, the two Simpson siblings, Bart and Lisa, were exiting their house with their backpacks, heading for the bus (which had just reached their driveway). Marge stood on the house steps, holding Maggie. Homer was busy inside getting ready for work.

"Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!" Lisa says, bidding her parents farewell.

"Goodbye, Lisa and Bart!" Marge says, waving her free hand. "Have a great day at school! No fighting!"

"As long as we're not within a 5 feet radius we should be good!" Lisa says with a thumbs up.

Once they had reached the bus doors, Otto opens them, allowing them to step in.

That's when Homer rushes outside of the house, only clad in a white towel covering his lower half.

"Maaarge!" Homer moans with a frown. "Where did you put the clean laundry again? I need my collared shirt for work!"

"It's right there on the dryer, Homie." She points forward to the drying rack, where Homer's washed shirt, pants, and underwear hung on clothespin.

"Oh, right!" Homer goes over to the drying rack, and as usual, he finds a way to even screw _that_ up.

Marge watches Homer go to the rack, and soon covers her mouth, gasping. "No! No! Homer, don't change out _here!_ Go inside!"

The students on the bus didn't take too kindly to this display either, as they all shriek in terror (except Bart and Lisa, who were laughing their heads off and covering their face in embarrassment respectively).

" ** _AHH!_** " They screech.

"Ha ha!" Bart guffaws, pointing at his father.

"Ohh.." Lisa moans, covering her face.

Luckily, that's exactly when Otto started driving the bus away. The kids have never been happier to leave for school.

Hoping to forget about that awful display, Lisa tries to think of something to talk about.

"Eh... So, Bart!" She looks over at her older brother. "I heard Mrs. Barbash got replaced yesterday by a new art teacher."

"Oh, you mean Ms. Tindol?" Bart replies.

Lisa shrugs. "I wouldn't know. Ms. Hoover's class didn't have art yesterday. But we're having it today, so I'll get to meet her. How is she?"

Bart shrugs. "Eh, she's ok, I guess..."

Lisa's ears perk up. "'Ok'? That's strange... I've never heard you use the term 'ok' for a teacher. It's always 'buttmuncher' or 'snot-slurper', but never 'ok'. Let me guess, she's a pushover? She just lets the students walk all over her, doesn't she?"

"Hm.. No." Bart answers.

"Oh. Then I suppose she just doesn't do her job!" Lisa guesses. "She probably just sits on the school phone talking to her boyfriend, while you guys tear the place apart..."

Bart nods "no".

"Or maybe... She's a troublemaker, right? She's probably just as immature as you, does she-"

"Nope. She's just a normal teacher, Lis..." Bart says, even though he knew while Tindol didn't fit into any of the categories Lisa had stated, she was far from a "normal teacher".

"This... Can't be real!" Lisa stammers with shock. "A completely normal, decent teacher that you find... Ok..?"

"Look, can we not talk about this right now?" Bart grumps, crossing his arms.

Lisa smiles. "Bart, do you... Like your teacher?"

 **(A/N: Quick author's note I wanna point out. When Lisa uses the term "like" in this sentence, she doesn't mean romantically. Keep reading.)**

Bart groans. "Lisa! I said-"

"Bart likes his teacher! Bart likes his teacher!" Lisa chants in a "sing-songy" tone.

"Shut up!" Bart barks.

"Whaddya like so much about her? Huh?" Lisa teases. "Does she give you pity grades or something? Does she do your homework for you? Huh? Huh?"

Bart grumbles to himself, trying to ignore his sister's taunts. Just goes to show that Bart isn't always the vexatious sibling...

* * *

We cut to later in the day. The bus had already dropped the students off and they were currently scrambling through the hallways to get to their respective classes. Bart and Milhouse were walking together.

"So, what did Skinner do to you after taking you to his office yesterday?" Bart asks.

"Well first, I had to remove all the gum off the desks..." Milhouse begins.

"Yikes." Bart cuts in.

"Then, I had to write a formal apology letter to him while he watched and constantly corrected me for my bad grammar usage and spelling!"

"Go on..."

"And worst of all, I had to write 'I won't draw crass images of the principal' on the chalkboard over and over! It was hell, Bart! I mean, can you imagine if someone had to do that _all the time?!_ "

"I can only imagine..." Bart says with an eye roll.

Just then, the two arrived to their classroom door, and there was a small note taped to the door's window, which read: "4TH GRADE REPORT TO ART CLASS" in black letters.

"Oh, great... Art at the beginning of the day?" Milhouse gripes, hanging his head low. "Sucks, right, Bart?"

Bart shrugs in response, making the onomatopoeic sound for "I don't know". "I don't see what the problem is."

"Wha?!" Milhouse exclaims. "But... But I thought you didn't like art!"

Bart is just about to respond before he's interrupted by the "big man" himself.

"Ah, Bart Simpson..." Seymour says, as he walks in front of the two boys with his hands behind his back. "Why aren't you headed to art class? Questioning authority yet again?"

"We were just on our way." Bart says, strangely lacking any hints of attitude or rudeness in his voice. "Why aren't you dead yet?" Ah, _there's_ our Bart.

"Well, because I still possess the vital elements essential for living- Hey, wait a minute! That wasn't a legitimate question, but merely an ill-mannered, edgy wisecrack used to make me shut my mouth!" Skinner hisses.

"Just cut the talk and let us leave, Skinner." Bart says, as he walks to the art room with Milhouse. Skinner begins following them.

"So, I didn't hear any bad notes from our new teacher about you..." Skinner continues. "I assume you stole her demerit papers? Or taped her mouth, tied her up, and locked her in the janitor's closet like you did with our last substitute teacher, Mr. Willard?"

"Nah, too predictable." Bart remarks. That's when they reached art class, and Bart and Milhouse enter through the door, with Skinner following close behind.

Once the two boys enter, they head straight to their seats and plop down into them. Right on cue, Martin walks up to Bart, holding something large behind his back.

"Good morning, Bartholomew!" Martin chirps. Bart mutters an incoherent "hi" under his breath.

"Just so you know, I took some time to myself yesterday, and I've completely forgiven you for your little 'boner', as the cool kids say, that you performed yesterday!" Martin adds. "In fact, I made a _new_ painting! Behold!" Martin shows Bart the thing he was holding behind his back, which was yet another perfectly painted drawing. This time, with the Mona Lisa, except, you guessed it, with Martin's face.

"The Martin Lisa!" He calls it. Bart squints his eyes. "Pretty _rad_ , huh?"

"Rad? Try sad..." Bart sticks his finger in his mouth.

"I'm thinking of doing some more classic painting renditions! Maybe... Martin with a Pearl Earring, or The Birth of Martin! Yes, I can already picture it! Me, standing gracefully on a clam, as I use only my long, flowing mane to cover my-"

Just then, Nelson sneaks up from and grabs Martin by the shirt. With little to no effort, the bully smashes Martin's head right through his canvas, puncturing right through it.

"That's what you get for making me picture that!" Nelson says as he pushes the nerd to the ground. Martin moans in pain, writhing on the floor.

Meanwhile, Ms. Tindol was sitting at her desk, filling out the attendance sheet, now that it looked like everyone had arrived to class. However, she is halted by Skinner.

"Good morning, Ms. Tindol." The principal says, as he looks down at the sitting teacher.

Her ears perk up at the deep sound of his voice. She turns to face him and greets him with a pleasant smile. "Hello, Principal Skinner. How are you?"

"Fine, thank you." He responds. "Just wondering... Did Bart give you any trouble yesterday?"

"Bart?" She says.

"Oh, you may not know who he is. Probably because he replied with 'Lee Keyrear' or 'Mike Rotchburns' when you asked his name? Well he's the one with the inverted paper bag head, see?" He points at Bart, who is patiently sitting at his desk.

"I know who Bart is." Ms. Tindol says "And no, he didn't give me any trouble at all."

Skinner squints. "Hm... Is he making you say that? Did he threaten to do something to you? There's a wire there somewhere, isn't there?"

"Nope! Bart was just fine in my class yesterday." She grins. "In fact, he was a stellar student."

"My god, you _are_ mental! I told Chalmers this is the last time we hire a deranged madman, but of course he doesn't listen!" He angrily walks off, while Ms. Tindol just stares at him blankly. 5 seconds later, Skinner rushes back to her with an anxious face. "Please don't tell him I said that." He pleads, leaving once more, once again, leaving Ms. Tindol confused and silent. When she taught at Shelbyville, the teachers weren't nearly "eccentric" as they were here... But she chooses to ignore that, as she faces back to her class.

"Well, good morning, class!" She greets

"Hi, Ms. Tinker!" Milhouse blurts, waving his hand.

"You moron, her name's Ms. Thompson!" Nelson says.

"I thought her name was Ms. Trimble!" Sherri and Terri say at the same time.

Tindol's welcoming grin slowly becomes a disappointed frown. To think that class just began 10 seconds ago and 3 people had already butchered her name. "Erm.. Actually, it's-"

"You guys, her name's Ms. _Tindol_. Get it right!" Bart states.

Her eyes enlarge from surprise for a second, before returning to their normal state, as she contently smiles and clasps her hands to her chest. "Yes, exactly... Nice to know someone's been paying attention..."

Some kids begin to snicker. Bart Simpson paying _attention_? Good one. Bart glares at them from the corner of his eye.

"Hey! It was just a lucky guess!" Bart whisper shouts at his fellow students.

"Now, class." Tindol gets up from her seat and walks in front of her desk. "Today in art, we will-"

"Can we play outside in stead of doing art?" One student asks, raising his hand. Before Ms. Tindol can even open her mouth to answer, Bart chimes in.

"Hey! She was still talking, doofus!" He growls. Bart gasps silently. " _Now I'm defending the teacher? What's wrong with you, Bart Simpson?!_ " He says to himself.

Ms. Tindol nods. "Yes, thank you, Bart."

More snickers, this wasn't looking good on Bart's part. He covers his grimacing, red face.

"Now let me continue without interruptions." She begins. "Today, we will have free draw, so do whatever you please, as _long_ as it involves art in some way, shape, or form."

"Bullying's an art!" Nelson says, right before delivering a punch at Martin's face.

" _Visual_ art, Mr. Muntz." She corrects.

"Aw, come _on!_ " The bully whines.

"We will be doing this for the rest of the class period, and I hope to see what you've all come up with tomorrow." She adds. "Also, I'd appreciate it if you guys didn't... _copy_ what your friends did..."

"Oh, Ms. Tindol! _I_ didn't copy anyone!" Martin proudly says. "You must be proud of me!"

"I'm proud of all of you." Ms. Tindol says.

"Yes, but especially me?" Martin asks. Ms. Tindol sighs. While she had nothing against a determined spirit, she couldn't help but think Martin's "kiss-ass" attitude was slightly over the top and occasionally annoying.

"Just..." She sighs, and forces a grin. "Get to work."

As Ms. Tindol returns to her desk, all the students reach under their desks to grab their personal sketchbooks, and they start their drawing. Well, all the students but Bart, who sat at his desk with a somewhat uneasy expression.

" _Oh, man..._ " He says to himself. " _I left my book at home! Hey, maybe I can snag Martin's... Nah, he's probably filled it with all those weird drawings, which I do **not** need to see..._" He glances over at Ms. Tindol, who was sitting down at her desk, minding her own business. " _Hm..._ "

Bart hops off his seat and walks up to the teacher. Once he had reached her desk, he looks up at her. "Uh... Ms. Tindol?"

She looks over, and as expected, smiles at the sight of her "stellar student".

"Hi there, Bart." She responds, with a radiant smile. "Is there a problem?"

"Well... Yeah..." He stammers, twiddling his fingers bashfully. "I didn't bring my sketchbook today-"

"That's fine." She cuts in.

"So, I was wondering if I could borrow some paper?" He finishes his query.

"Of course! You didn't have to be scared to ask me that!" She assures him.

"I wasn't scared!" Bart claims, now with a more hostile expression.

"Those twiddling fingers say otherwise..." She smirks a bit, as she points to Bart's busy hands. He looks down at them with a blank face and doesn't say a word, but only murmurs in embarrassment.

She smiles. "6 x 8 or 9 x 11?"

Bart looks back at her. "What?"

"The paper." She says. "6 x 8 or 9 x 11?"

"Uhh.." He mutters. "I want... Um... The one you draw on..."

Ms. Tindol laughs for a quick second at Bart's naivete. She found it strangely endearing. She then reaches under her desk and hands him a white, 9 x 11 piece of paper.

"Thanks!" He says with a smile. Quickly, he changes it to a rather uncaring, uninterested expression. "I mean... Whatever..." He turns back and walks to his seat, as Ms. Tindol watches him go away, still blissful as ever.

Holding the paper in his right hand, he uses his left to anxiously scratch the back of his head. " _Ugh! What's **with** you? This isn't like you, __Bart..._ ". He sits down and rests his elbows on his desk as he rubs his temples aggressively. " _Maybe it's something I ate... Like, this morning... I tried to tell Mom that milk was expired but dammit, she didn't listen!_ " He grabs his pencil and begins dragging it across his desk, making dents as he went. " _Or maybe I'm being mind controlled, like in Radioactive Man issue #420, where Radioactive Man's worst rival, the Atomic Ammonium, latched his mind control minions onto Radioactive Man's head so they'd attach to his cranial nerves, therefore causing him to think he's his henchman, and it's up to Fallout Boy to get his mind straight and save the day! Or... More like save Radioactive Man so **he** can save the day... Hey, I got it! I know what to draw!" _Completely forgetting about the current issue at stake, he begins swiftly doodling on his paper.

A few lines, scribbles, circles, and various other geometric figures later, Bart had completed his creation, and held it up in front of him with pride.

"Yes! Me as Radioactive Man!" He grins. Sure enough, on his paper, there was a cartoon of him, drawn to depict him as his idol, Radioactive Man. He was pointing up, with a speech bubble reading, "UP AND ATOM, MAN!" In large, bold text. However, Bart's beam of fulfillment slowly became a dissatisfied frown.

"Hm..." He mumbles, tapping his chin. "Something doesn't look right... But what?" He stares at it closer, squinting his eyes a tad. "Hm... Maybe it's the eyes."

Bart then proceeds to erase his caricature's eyes, and redraws them. However, that still didn't fix the problem.

"Or the hair! Definitely the hair." He turns his pencil over and erases his spiky locks. He tries to make them a bit thinner, but once again, the picture still doesn't appear right. Bart frowns.

"Ugh!" He groans, pulling onto the sides of his face with stress. "Why's this so hard? This looks awful! I-I should start all over!" Anxiously, he begins to erase the whole paper, grunting as he did so. However, the hard friction of the eraser and the stress put onto it didn't mix well with the thin piece of paper Bart was given, causing it to tear right smack dab in the middle.

Bart gasps, and can nearly feel himself on the verge of tears. He can feel his veins pulsating from rage and his teeth gritting wildly, and out of frustration, he crumbles the ruined artwork into a paper ball and throws it across the room, grunting with anger (and a hint of sadness). Being only 10 years old, Bart began to feel his eyes wet with tears, and before they even had a chance of running down his face, he quickly hid his head down on his desk, using his arms to shield him from onlookers.

It was odd, Bart never showed so much passion for something like art, to the point where he nearly _cried_ about it. But for some reason, he just couldn't take it. He had lost all the motivation he had previously had, and could only sulk on his desk.

"Oh, man..." Bart mutters with a sniff.

Bart's paper ball, surprisingly, was still airborne, and once it made its landing, it had fallen right onto Ms. Tindol's desk. Since her head was already focused on her sketchbook, the landing caught her by surprise, as she abruptly backs away.

"Hm?" She says through closed lips. She picks it up and examines the paper ball. Slowly, Tindol unfolds it, curious as to what could be inside. Once it had been opened, she was greeted to the creased, crinkled, and torn paper. While it was hard to see, what with the several wrinkles and damages on the sheet, she managed to make out the many faint lines Bart has lazily erased. Though his name was nowhere in sight, and the drawing was barely visible, it wasn't hard for Ms. Tindol to guess whose art is was. But she just didn't understand why it was in such terrible condition. Hoping to get some answers, she looked at Bart, and was surprised and rather confused to see him lying on his desk with sorrow.

Lightly, she covers her mouth and stares. It wasn't until a few seconds later, she got up and steadily approaches him. Once she had reached the child, she looked at him once more without making a sound.

As she listens more closely, she can make out a few sniffling sounds, which only saddens her more. She isn't exactly sure what to say, fearing whatever she does will make him angry. But it didn't hurt to try. She clears her throat quietly.

"Erm... Bart...?" Ms. Tindol says in hushed voice. As expected, Bart didn't hear her, and kept his head down, so she attempts again.

"Bart?" She says slightly louder. No response. Was it really that bad? She then places her hand on the boy's shoulder, and lightly shakes him.

"Bart? Can you hear me?"

This managed to get his attention. He opens his mouth and slowly lifts his head up, only allowing his eyes and nose to peak out.

"What do you want?" He asks through his fit of sniffs.

She lowers herself so she's at an even height with the child. "Is there something wrong, dear?"

"It's nothing." He fibs, putting his head back down on the desk. "Leave me alone."

"Bart, whatever's troubling you, I'll gladly help-"

"I said leave me alone!"

He starts his sniffling back up again, and Tindol's crestfallen expression only increases in sadness. "Bart, I won't be able to go on with my day knowing you're still unhappy... Please tell me the problem..." He doesn't say anything back. Ms. Tindol doesn't move, and tries to think of a way to get it out of him. She looks back at the crumbled piece of paper in her hands. Gradually, she opens it back up again and glances at it.

"Hm." She mumbles. "Bart...?" She taps him on the shoulder, and he doesn't reply. Either way, she continues with what she was saying. "I just wanted to let you know... While I was sitting at my desk, a ball of paper landed right on my table, and I thought it might be yours..."

"Ball _of paper...?_ " Bart slowly begins to remember about the condition the paper was in when he threw it.

She places the unfolded piece of paper in front of Bart. "Does this look familiar to you?"

Bart doesn't move for a whole 10 seconds before peeking his eyes from the top. He gets the glimpse of the picture, and can feel himself nearing tears once again. He frowns, and covers his eyes as he sniveled and snuffled. "Get that away from me!" He snaps. "It's awful!"

"Awful? Oh, what are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about! Look at it!" He says. "Better yet, don't look at it! Just throw it in the garbage!" He points to the trash bin in the corner of the room, still with his head planted on the desk.

Ms. Tindol puts a comforting hand on Bart's shoulder.

"Bart... Don't say that." She urges. "While I can't see it very well, from what I can make out, it doesn't look very bad at all."

Bart doesn't say anything.

"Don't worry, you're just frustrated because it didn't meet _your_ expectations, which is perfectly fine. That doesn't mean you can't improve upon it. I went through the same exact thing when I was your age. Even today I can get a bit irate when my art doesn't look how I want it to. But that doesn't mean I give up, and I also don't get rid of it. It's nice to look back on it for reference at times..." She explains. "Bart, you're such a talented artist for your age... I don't want this minor inconvenience to hinder you from embracing your gift."

Immediately, Bart's eyes widen and his pupils constrict to the size of atoms. While her whole speech meant a lot to him, one very specific part of it stood out to him, and he slowly peaks his eyes out from behind his arms.

"You... Think I'm an artist...?" He asks with apparent disbelief.

Ms. Tindol nods, now smiling sympathetically. "Now if only you'd let the world know it..." She goes back to a more saddened expression. "Bart, I can't make you into something you don't wanna be, but I think you have so much potential that you just aren't using. I want you to at least _try_ to enjoy art, and if you can't, I have no right to stop you. But whatever you decide, don't ever be discouraged... You're a wonderful boy..." She smiles once more. "Do you understand?"

Bart lifts his whole head up from his desk, and stares at her blankly. Eventually, he speaks.

"I... I guess..." He quietly says, sniffing back his tears. Ms. Tindol smiles wholeheartedly, at him.

He then looks back at his desk and picks up the crumbled artwork. He looks at it for a while in silence.

"... You really think... It's good?" He asks.

"I think it's amazing." Ms. Tindol grins. "And it'd probably be even _more_ amazing if you drew it again for me..."

Bart looks back at the picture. "Hm... O-Ok..."

"That's the spirit." Ms. Tindol softly says, as she pats his head. Bart couldn't help but smile a bit. "How about we go over to my desk? Bring your chair." This was probably the first time Bart had ever heard those words in that exact sequential order and it didn't mean trouble.

* * *

Bart takes his seat up front right by Ms. Tindol. Due to his short stature however, he was barely able to see over the teacher's desk, let alone draw on it. Ms. Tindol notices his struggling and decides to help him out (But not without watching for a few more seconds, just because of how adorable it looked).

She turns to the back shelf, where thick textbooks were lined up. She pulls 2 out.

Bart strains, as he continues his attempts to reach over the desk "C'mon... C'mon..." He says.

"Bart? I think I have the solution to your problems..." Ms. Tindol says in a sing-songy tone.

She picks Bart up by his shirt, immensely startling him. "Woah!" He exclaims, fearfully flailing his hands around. With her free hand, Ms. Tindol stacks the two large books on his seat, and plops him back on top of it.

"Heeey!" He whines, rubbing his bottom. "What was that fo-" He stops midway, once he sees he's reached new heights... Quite literally, I might add. " _Woah_ mama!" He exclaims with thrill. "Huh, I guess books _are_ good for something!"

Ms. Tindol giggles. She then slips him a piece of paper and a pencil. "Ok, now let's try again, shall we?"

He looks at his blank paper quite nervously. "Er... I dunno... What if I-"

"You'll do just fine, Bart." She reassures the child. "Just do your best, you'll be surprised."

Bart's anxieties began to rise again, but for some reason, Ms. Tindol's comforting words made all those fears flush away. He looks back at the paper with a more determined expression, grabs his pencil, and starts drawing.

" _You can do this... You can do this..._ " Bart repeats in his head.

Ms. Tindol watches him over his shoulder, grinning at his determination. "Very good, Bart!"

"You're just sayin' that. I haven't even really started!"

"But it looks fantastic already! Trust me, I'm an art teacher." She jokingly remarks.

Bart begins drawing on the mask. He thought it looked fairly decent so far, but his worries returned.

"I think this is where I messed up last time..." Bart mumbles, holding his pencil away from the paper. "Can you draw it for me?" He begs.

"Oh, Bart. What kind of teacher would I be doing your work for you?"

"An... Amazing teacher...?" He says, and puts on a large, cheesy smile while holding his hands innocently behind his back.

She laughs. "Nice try, mister, but you're on your own."

"Aw, but Ms. Tindol!" He moans. "I'll just ruin it! It already looks really good!"

" _Try,_ Bart. I said it before, and I'll say it again."

Bart sighs, looking down. Ms. Tindol begins to feel a bit bad.

"Hm... Well, Bart, I won't do your work for you, but I _will_ give you some tips, if you'd like." Tindol offers.

"Like that'll help..." He groans.

"Trust me, they will." She replies. "First, and I'm sure you've heard this a number of times: Slow and steady wins the race!"

"But I'm not racing!"

"I'm being figurative, Bart."

"Figure-wha?"

"What I mean is, just go at a steady pace, and you're sure to succeed. If you rush, there's a good chance you'll mess up somewhere. You've got to be patient with yourself."

"That's not gonna work!" Bart rants. "If anything, I think it'll make it worse. My hands'll get all sweaty and wobbly and I'll screw up again!"

"That's only if you put pressure on yourself. Try, but don't be nervous."

Bart glowers a bit, but decides to try it out, because what the hell? He starts drawing out the face, but goes _veeeery sloooowly_. A bit too slow.

"Well, not _that_ slow, Bart." Ms. Tindol says. "We'll be here for days."

He speeds up his pace just a bit, now moving steadily. Ms. Tindol nods, almost as if to say "better" without making a sound.

" _Oh, this isn't gonna work... I bet it's just some art mumbo-jumbo that's been 'passed down for generations' or whatever... By the time I'm done with this, it'll look exactly the-_ " Bart gasps, as he looks at his finished face. He thought it looked much cleaner and better than his last attempt. "Woah! Wh-What just happened?!"

She grins. "Didn't I tell you?"

Bart's mouth is still gaped wide open in shock. He then smiles, feeling confident as ever. "Alright!" He cheers.

"Now just keep doing that, and I think you'll be delightfully surprised." Ms. Tindol advises.

"Sweet! Hey, thanks, Ms. T!" Bart grins.

" _Ms. T?_ " Ms. Tindol thinks to herself. " _How sweet... I have a nickname..._ " She beams.

Bart continues on with his drawing, carefully moving his pencil across his paper. He had just about finished the head, and was now going to the body.

"Bart?"

"Yeah?"

"If you don't mind me asking, what is the picture supposed to be?"

"Ah, it's just me as only the best superhero ever, Radioactive Man! You've probably never heard of him though-"

"Up and atom!" She quotes, grinning.

Bart's ears shoot up. "Woah! Do you really..." He still isn't convinced, however. ".. Pssh... Anyone can quote a 3 word catchphrase, that doesn't mean you _really_ know Radioactive Man."

"You're right..." Ms. Tindol says. "Someone who _really_ knows Radioactive Man wouldn't have read 918 of all 1,059 issues, own nearly every last piece of merchandise, and own the limited edition, one-of-its-kind bootleg Radioactive Man comic from 1992..."

Bart releases a rather prolonged gasp. "No way!"

She smiles. "Way."

Yet, Bart _still_ wasn't 100% convinced, and had to perform a test. "... Radioactive Man, Issue #72!"

" _To Betroth a Foe_ , in which Radioactive Man gets married to Larva Girl." The teacher replies within a second.

"Radioactive Man, Issue #91!"

" _Attack of the Giant Maggots_ , in which Radioactive Man must take down the Malicious Maggot and his army, in order to save the city."

"Radioactive Man, Issue #27!"

" _Radioactive Man In: Pinch in Scrape,_ in which Radioactive Man has his first face-off with Dr. Crab."

"Hm... Clever girl..." Bart rubs his chin. "But how about.. Radioactive Man Issue #753!"

"Nice try, Bart. Any Radioactive Man fan knows they unintentionally skipped 753, due to one of the publishers accidentally putting the wrong number on it."

"Ay caramba!" Bart blurts, his sclerae as wide as saucers. "I don't know what to say! An adult... A _girl!_ Heck, a **_teacher,_** who reads Radioactive Man religiously?! I-I just can't believe it!"

"Well, believe it." She smiles.

"Wow..." He adds, smiling also. "Hey, if you're desperate enough, I know _just_ the perfect guy for you. He's 500 pounds, but a good fifth of that weight's from all the comic books he hides under his clothes. You guys would be perfect for each other, and he'd make you look incredible by comparison!"

"Oh, Bart, that's very sweet of you, but I'm already in a relationship." She says.

"That's fine. Besides, his hands are always either covered in Cheetos dust or sweat from trying to come up with the most witty response in an internet flame war."

The two break out into laughter at Bart's quip. Tindol in her more demure, soft tone, while Bart did so in his rather obnoxious, hard-to-ignore tone.

The two's laughs began to catch a few student's attention. To be more specific, Nelson Muntz and the infamous twins, Sherri and Terri.

"Hey, is that Bart over there, sittin' next to the teacher?" Nelson asks in his brute, deep tone.

"It looks like they're laughing about something!" Sherri says.

"Good eye, Terri!" Terri replies.

"Terri! I'm Sherri!" Sherri claims. "Or _am_ I...?"

Nelson smirks. "Look at those 2! Ha! I can't believe Simpson's gotten nice with a teacher!"

The two girls titter.

"Bart likes the teacher! Bart likes the teacher!" The girls sing, moving their fingers around as if they were orchestrating a performance.

However, Bart doesn't hear these taunts, as he was too busy enjoying himself.

"Oh, Bart!" Ms. Tindol says, finishing up her laughing fit. "You're such a funny little guy!" She pats his head.

"Yup, I know." He grins pridefully.

"Hey, how about we see your finished drawing?" She suggests.

"Ok!" Bart gleefully responds, passing his drawing to her. She adores the finished product.

"Oh, Bart! I knew you could do it!" She rejoices.

"Heh... Uh... Th-Thanks, Ms. T..." Bart nervously says, looking down. Guess this brat did have a heart...

"Anytime, Bart..." She scruffs his spiky yellow locks up, and he laughs in response.

"Hey, quit that!" He jokingly says, lightly taking her hand off.

"I'm going to get some more paper from the closet. Hold on, ok?" She gets up and begins approaching the material closet.

Bart gives her a thumbs up, and smiles as he looks up at the ceiling.

Meanwhile, outside of the room, the control freak principal, Seymour Skinner was scanning the hallways as he usually found himself doing. His hands folded behind his back, as he faces down his a serious expression.

" _Hm... I wonder what Simpson is up to..._ " He says in his head. Luckily, he was nearing the art room's door. Once he had reached it, he walks directly in front of its window, and ducks his head down a bit so he can get a better look.

"Hm..." He murmurs. His eyes shift to Bart's desk immediately, but surprisingly, he wasn't there. "What the...? Dammit, he's escaped! He's probably out roaming the halls, planning his next attack! He never learns, does he..." His eyes move towards the teacher's desk, and sure enough, he spots Bart sitting by it.

"What in the name of..." He squints his eyes, thinking he wasn't seeing something right. "What's Bart doing at the teacher's desk? Stealing coffee filters, I presume..."

Skinner taps at the window, in an attempt to get Bart's attention. Luckily, it works, and he turns to face the window. "Hm?"

He's immediately greeted with Seymour's cold, stern glare. Almost as if to say "I'm watching you" without actually saying it.

While this was supposed to intimidate the boy, it only encouraged him to go farther. Bart begins making faces, as he pulls his bottom lip down and pokes his lower teeth from under it. He makes a "Durrr..." sound as he did so.

Skinner obviously didn't take too kindly to Bart's disrespect, as his scowl only grows.

After making a few more faces, Bart then decides to pull out his "best material", as he stand up on his chair with his back facing the principal. He then pulls his pants down, mooning him as he snickers. Skinner begins banging on the window with rage, yelling out unheard obscenities. Bart continues to taunt him by shaking it back and forth, and stops just in time, right before Ms. Tindol comes back to her seat.

"Ok, I got the paper." She smiles. Bart was innocently sitting back in his seat, as if nothing happened.

It didn't take her too long to hear the loud banging on the window, and she looks at it, only to see Seymour's angry banging.

"Oh my, is he ok?" She asks, staring at him.

"Ah, he does this all the time." Bart smirks, his head now resting nonchalantly at the back of his seat. "Just let the dude tire himself out..."

"Well, ok.." She says in a slightly unsure tone. She returns to her seat and begins quietly humming to herself, as she removes the many sheets of paper from its packaging.

Once it had been removed, a thick, abundant pile of card stock paper fell onto the table with a thud. Still humming, she begins to arrange them in small piles and put them in the desk drawers. However, she stops after 2 or 3 piles, due to something catching her eyes... Something that really should've caught her eyes forever ago.

"... Oh my..." She lifts her head completely from the bottom of her desk, and stares wide-eyed at the same exact spray painting portrait Bart did of Principal Skinner. It still looked the same as it ever did. Though the paint _was_ slowly fading away, it was still hard to ignore.

"Bart, did you... Draw that?" Ms. Tindol asks, pointing to the picture.

Bart turns to face it, nearly forgetting about its existence. From the teacher's tone and how she reacted, Bart feared she wasn't too happy with him.

"Uhhh... Yeah..?" Bart says with a small gulp. They had already formed such a strong bond, he didn't want to taint it already.

Ms. Tindol's blank stare turns into a small chuckle. "Hehe!" She twitters. "It's a very nice drawing."

"Y-You aren't mad?" Bart asks, still in a slightly fearful tone.

"Mad? No!" She smiles. She looks back at it, not without giggling once more. "I'm assuming it's supposed to be the principal, yes?"

"Ha ha! You know it, sister!" Bart grins.

Tindol's grin extends from ear to ear. "Heh... Bart, could I ask you something?"

"You just did." Bart smiles.

"Bart!" Ms. Tindol blurts, giving him a soft, playful shove.

Bart cackles. "Ha ha! I'm just joking. What is it?"

"Would you mind showing me some of your other drawings?" She asks.

"Really? You wanna see some?" He asks.

"I'd love to."

Overjoyed, Bart hops from his seat and rushes back to his desk to get them. He pulls out a clustered, somewhat torn folder nearly bursting with Bart's many doodles. He runs back to Ms. Tindol, and drops the folder onto her desk.

"Presenting!" Bart begins, in a booming voice. "The art of Bart!" He begins flipping through the folder. "The usual admission fee is $8.00, but I'll cut you some slack."

She excitedly awaits to see all the pictures Bart has made.

"Ok, so first up, we have: 'Man With Fish Head and Fish With Man Body'!" He shows her the rather kooky drawing. It's exactly what the title states.

"Very unique." She says.

"Next, here's 'A Day in the Life of Radioactive Man'!" He shows her the next drawing, which was a silly illustration showing Radioactive Man's sidekick, Fallout Boy, hanging off a cliff, screaming at the top of his longs in a speech bubble: "SAVE ME RADIOACTIVE MAN!" as Radioactive Man stands nearby, facepalming with irritation.

"Ha ha!" Tindol laughs, covering her mouth a bit as she did so. "I could see this happening in the actual comic..."

"I'm surprised it hasn't been done." Bart adds with a shrug. "Now, our next piece is something I'd like to call, 'Angry Dad'!"

Sure enough, the illustration had Bart's iconic "Angry Dad" character, practically yelling his head off in the doodle.

"Angry Dad?" She repeats. "Who's that?"

"It's supposed to be my old man, Homer." Bart smiles. "I wrote a comic about it a while ago. Then, it became an internet cartoon, but it got canned after the company producing the episodes went broke. That's when my dad went on this insane rampage, you see, and he nearly died, but that's when-"

Bart's tedious tale had been cut short by the infamous Martin Prince, who was standing right in front of Ms. Tindol's desk, wearing his cheesy, "kiss-uppy" grin.

"Why, hello, Ms. Tindol!" Martin addresses, holding his hands behind his back. Bart scowls at Martin, unhappy with how he cut in with his story. Ms. Tindol's smile disappeared as well, forming a neutral expression, as she, too, was sad to hear the story end so quickly, seeing as she was quite interested.

"Hello, Martin." She replies, straight-faced.

"I just wanted to let you know, I've already made 3 more portraits. Would you like to see them?" He asks, bringing his face uncomfortably close to hers.

"It's fine." Ms. Tindol responds, trying to sound as kind and understanding as possible. She moves her face away from his.

"Are you sure?" Martin inquires. "I'm almost certain you want to!"

"No, I'm fine..."

"Well, whenever you're ready to, just let me know! I'll probably be working on another picture!"

"Mmm.." She murmurs.

Martin turns his glance to Bart. "Hello, Bart! I can't believe it's only the second day and you've already been sent to the front with the teacher!" He grins. "Excellent decision on your part, Ms. Tindol! Keep this one in check."

Bart and Ms. Tindol both face each other, with half-closed, slightly annoyed eyes.

Martin, still facing Bart, looked down at his torso and silently gasps at what he is met with.

"A gold star!" Martin whisper shouts, with wide eyes. Apparently, Bart hadn't removed it yet.

Martin clears his throat. "Ahem, Ms. Tindol? I hate to be a 'nark' as Bart and his fellow companions would call it, but it appears that Bart has stolen one of your gold stars and put it on himself, when it should be on _me!_ "

Martin abruptly snatches the sticker off Bart's chest, and proudly places it on his.

"Hey!" Bart whines. "Give that back!"

"No need to thank me, ma'am!" Martin beams.

Ms. Tindol arches her eyebrow. " _Actually,_ Martin..." She begins. "Bart earned that gold star, so I'd appreciate it if you gave it back to him."

Martin gasps once again, this time, much louder. " ** _What?!_** " He exclaims. "I-I'd hate to second guess one of my teachers, but, Ms. Tindol! Y-You clearly aren't thinking straight!"

"Oh, I'm fairly certain I'm thinking straight." Ms. Tindol says, crossing her arms.

This was a display that comes only once in a million moons. It was unreal. Could it truly be? A teacher taking Bart's side rather than _Martin Prince's?!_ This whole day was too bizarre for words.

Bart was somewhat touched to be stood up for by her.

"Yeah!" He smirks. "So I'll be taking _that_ back, thank you!" Bart snatches the sticker back, tearing a small piece of Martin's shirt along with it.

Martin in speechless. He's trying to make out words, but his attempts prove to be futile, as he merely stammers with a befuddled expression.

"B-But... But... Th-This is preposterous! Preposterous I tell you!" The nerd rants. "I-It's ludicrous! Asinine! Absurd! Farcical, I tell you, _Farcical!_ "

Before Martin can spew out more ridiculous adjectives, Ms. Tindol speaks up.

"How about you go back to your seat, Martin, ok?" Ms. Tindol calmly advises.

Still stammering with disbelief, Martin returns back to his seat with reluctance.

"Bart, your school is so... Unconventional..." Ms. Tindol says.

"Does that mean weird?"

"Eh... Sort of." She says, giving the "so-so" gesture with her hands.

"You got that right..." Bart responds. "Hey, can I show you some more of my pictures?"

She nods her head, with a "Mmhm."

He grins with all his teeth, and continues flipping through to see what he can find.

"Oh! Here's a good one!" Bart states. "This is an old 'Angry Dad' comic I wrote. Here, you can read it!"

He hands it over to her, and she looks through the comic.

The first panel showed Angry Dad sitting on the couch, watching television. Next to the crudely drawn cartoon was a speech bubble, indicating dialogue.

"I AM STARVING." It read in bold letters. "SOME BEER SHOULD FILL ME UP!"

In the next panel, Angry Dad is shown walking to the kitchen. The 3rd panel shows him opening the fridge with glee. (Well, Angry Dad glee, which isn't very gleeful)

He opens the fridge, only to see it's completely empty, and he is far from pleased.

"RAAAAHH!" He bellows with rage. "MAAARGE! I THOUGHT YOU BOUGHT GROCERIES YESTERDAY!"

In the next panel, Bart's sloppily drawn version of his mother is shown.

"I DID." Her speech bubble reads. "YOU ATE THEM ALL. I BOUGHT MORE JUST AN HOUR AGO AND YOU ATE THAT TOO."

He growls once more. "RAAAAH! I'M SO ANGRY!". And like any other "Bartoon", his head explodes. It reads "The End" at the corner of the panel.

The young teacher chuckles. "Do you have any more of these?"

"Yeah, but they're all pretty much the same thing." Bart admits. "Angry Dad does something, Angry Dad gets mad, Angry Dad's head explodes, lather, rinse, repeat."

"Well, every good comic writer has a gimmick." She explains.

"I guess you have a point..." Bart shrugs, placing the comic back in his folder.

"So, Bart. I understand you do cartoons... Have you ever tried branching out to different forms of media?" Ms. Tindol inquires.

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"I mean, have you ever done anything else?" She says. "I'm not saying your drawings aren't good. I just think since you're already so talented, you should try to see what else you can achieve with that talent."

"Oh!" Bart says, now having an understanding of what she meant. "Well, I also do graffiti."

"Graffiti?"

"Yeah! You see, I go by the name "El Barto" and every so often I'll- ..."

Bart stops, realizing what he had blurted. I guess in the heat of the moment, what with being rather giddy and excited, he unintentionally spilled quite possibly one of the deepest secrets he possessed.

"... Oh _man_..." Bart groans, covering his face a bit.

"What's wrong?" Ms. Tindol asks almost immediately.

"Ms. T, I wasn't supposed to _tell_ you that! It's a _secret!_ " Bart frets. "No one's supposed to know my secret identity! Not a single soul!"

"Bart..." Ms. Tindol says in a soothing voice, hoping to calm his nerves. However, he doesn't hear her over himself.

"If someone else knows I can't stay here! I-I'll have to move out of Springfield, change my name and identity, travel to another state, no! Country, no! Continent! L-Like Europe! Maybe I can become one of those Russian spies, I could pull that off, right?!"

"Bart..." She repeats, a bit more sternly.

"Oh, what do I do, what do I do!" He worries, and looks back up at his teacher. "Or maybe... Oh, Ms. Tindol... I didn't want it to come to this but I have to kill you now!"

Her eyes enlarge for a few seconds, but eventually return to her neutral state, and then form into a pleasant smile, finally able to say what she had been trying to.

"Bart... Your secret is safe with me..." She assures.

"Really?" He asks with doubt.

"Really." She nods.

"You _promise_ not to tell anyone?"

"I promise. Even if my life depended on it, my lips will stay sealed." She imitates the motion of zipping her lips, sliding her pinched fingers across her mouth.

Bart gives her a relieved smile. "Aw, thanks, Ms. Tindol!" He says, rubbing his arm.

"Anytime... El Barto..." She grins, Bart grins back.

"Now, where were we? Oh yeah! So, for our next piece in my portfolio, we have-"

 _ **RING!**_

The bell had just rung, which meant the students had to return to their homeroom in Mrs. Krabappel's class. They all began to leave their seats and head for the door.

"Ohh.." Bart moans. "That's the bell.."

"Cheer up, Bart. You can continue showing me next art class." Ms. Tindol mentions.

"When's next art class?" Bart queries.

"I believe sometime next week." She answers.

"Next week?! I can't wait that long!" Bart complains, pulling on his face.

"You'll be fine." Ms. Tindol assures with a smile, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Now run along to your next class, ok?"

"Mmm.. Well, ok.." Bart murmurs. "Bye, Ms. T."

She waves goodbye back, as he heads towards the door, but stops himself before he turns the knob. He turns around to face back at her again. "Uh.. Ms. Tindol?"

"Yes?"

He walks back up to her. "I was just wondering if..."

"If...?" She repeats.

"If I could maybe take my painting home? The one from yesterday?" He asks speedily.

She looks at the wall where all the paintings hung. Bart's wasn't too hard to pick out, due to it's apparent diversity from the others (sans Martin's, of course). She removes its clips and hands it back to him.

"Here you go." She chirps.

"Thanks." He replies, looking at it with a straight face.

"I'm assuming you're taking it home to possibly add onto it? Maybe take my advice with the shading...?" She asks.

Bart's move becomes a bit crooked. "Pfft... No... Well... _Maybe... I dunno.._ " He says the last part under his breath, with little to no coherence. "Uh.. Just wondering, if I _were_ to shade- which I'm not going to!" He adds abruptly, Ms. Tindol giggles at this. "Uh... Where would I put it?" He continues.

"Well, you'd want to shade in areas where a shadow would be casting." She explains.

"What does that mean?" He asks.

"Hm.. Can I see your picture for a second?"

Bart hands the canvas to his teacher. She pulls out a pencil and holds the canvas up so it's facing Bart.

"Ok... So you see here, where your arm is overlapping your shirt?" She asks. Bart nods. "Now, assuming the light source is coming from _this_ angle, you'd shade right here." She uses her pencil to direct where he'd do so. Same goes for this space between your shorts. Remember, when light is casting onto something, a shadow will be behind it, ok?"

"Oh, ok!" Bart states. "Thanks! Or whatever, since I won't need it..." She keeps her smile, as she stares at Bart. He silently walks out of the room, holding his canvas to his side.

Once he makes his way to the door, he uses his opposite hand to open it and enters the crowded hallway. He begins making his way to Mrs. Krabappel's class, but is stopped by Sherri, Terri, and Nelson, who were standing in his way, all wearing smirks on their faces.

"Hey Bart!" Sherri grins, her hands behind her back.

"Hey, Sherri." Bart replies, maintaining his neutral expression.

"Y'know, Bart... Me and my sister were talking, and we think you like the teacher!" The other twin says.

Bart goes pale and gulps. He's silent for a few seconds, as the twins eagerly smile at him with all their teeth. "Uhhh..." He hesitates.

"Look how white his face got! That means he _does_ like her!" Sherri says, nudging her sister.

The two girls begin to sing their "Bart likes the teacher" tune, in the same tone of voice they had used back in class. Bart glowers.

"They're gonna get married, I bet!" Terri teases.

"No we won't!" Bart shoots.

"Haw haw!" Nelson says, in his iconic tone of voice, pointing at Bart. "Teacher's pet!"

Bart gasps. "What are you talking about? I'm not a teacher's pet!" He claims with fury.

"Yeah you are!" Nelson retorts.

"Nuh-uh!" Bart says.

"Yeah-huh!" The bully replies.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah-huh, times infinity!"

"You can't do that!"

"Yeah-huh I can!"

Bart growls. That's when Milhouse, who was also in the hallway, walks by him.

"Well, they do have a point Bart... You _have_ been getting a little too nice with Ms. Tindol lately..." Milhouse mentions.

"Listen here." Bart begins. "Bart Simpson is not, and never will be, a teacher's pet! Teachers fear me! Teachers cower at the mere mention of my name! Teachers fall to their knees and-"

That's when Ms. Tindol walks out of her room, possibly leaving to get something before the next period started. Bart stops and looks at her.

"Hi, Ms. T!" He says with a smile. "Still can't wait for next week's class!"

"Hello again, Bart." She smiles, as she continues her walking.

Bart continues to stare at her, grinning as she left, until he realized he had disproved himself, whilst in the _middle_ of trying to prove himself. "..." He stares blankly, without saying a word.

Sherri, Terri, and Nelson begin laughing their heads off at Bart's obliviousness. The two girls resume their teasing jingle, while Bart continues walking to Mrs. K's room, wearing a grimace on his face, while his head hung low in shame and ignominy.

* * *

We cut to the end of the school day. All the students were gleefully running out of the building as soon as they heard the final bell of the day.

Principal Skinner runs out, waving a paper in the air frantically.

"Kids! Wait!" He calls. "You forgot to collect the homework!" They ignore him and continue running. "... Hmph, jokes on you! By neglecting this homework, you're only hurting your futures, so I hope you're all happy with yourselves!"

Chalmers then walks up to him, and looks at the paper. "That isn't homework! It's a flier for the upcoming school bake sale!"

Skinner is silent for a moment, and then proceeds to sigh in defeat. "I know..." He says, looking down in shame. Chalmers averts his eyes in irritation.

As said, every student was racing out of the school building, eager to go home and do things like play video games, dress up their "Malibu Stacy"s, and watch "Itchy & Scratchy" on TV. Well... _Almost_ every student, as one straggled away from the rest. No, it wasn't Martin, it wasn't even the brainy Lisa Simpson. Surprisingly, it was Bart. While he'd usually be the most enthusiastic about leaving school, he still felt very troubled and slightly distressed at what had happened a few hours ago. The whole scenario wouldn't stop playing in his head.

 _"Bart likes the teacher! Bart likes the teacher!"_

 _"Haw haw! Teacher's pet!"_

 _"They're gonna get married, I bet!"_

They just kept replaying, over and over. Sweat began to drop from his forehead as he thought about it.

One would just assume this was normal mindless elementary teasing, but Bart couldn't forget about it. After that, it wouldn't leave him alone for the remainder of the school day, and it was still with him. Bart wasn't usually seen as the "sensitive" type, but being called "teacher's pet" was something he couldn't just let slide under the rug. He had a reputation to keep, and he knew being the teacher's best friend would damage that severely.

Bart's never really liked a teacher till now. He usually showed strong resentment towards his instructors, and this resentment was usually returned. But there was something about Ms. Tindol... While he did like how she shared many of his interest and appreciated his wild sense of humor, the main thing that made Bart like her so much was that for _once_ in his entire life, he wasn't belittled by his teacher, but rather, encouraged.

It seemed as if just about every adult was out to get Bart. Even his parents occasionally disapproved of his interests. Knowing there was one out there who heartened him whenever they got the chance to and wanted to see him succeed felt so fulfilling to him. An adult who didn't repeatedly scold Bart, but didn't allow him to walk all over them either. There never seemed to be an in-between area. Well, until _now,_ of course.

But still. The term "teacher's pet" felt so demeaning to Bart. He could feel his dignity sinking right down his shorts the second he was called that. He just didn't know how to carry on, knowing this is how he was seen by his fellow mates.

Bart had made it to his bus, and went up the steps to enter.

"Hey! Bart-Dude!" Otto greets with 2 finger guns. This would be the part where Bart would reply with something along the lines of, "Hey! Otto Mann!", but in his current mood, he just wasn't feeling it. He decided not to reply (much to Otto's confusion), and continue walking through the bus. He looked over the rows of seats, only to see his sister's starfish-esque hairstyle peaking out from one seat... In the _very_ back of the bus. Of course, the one day Lisa picks to sit in the back is the same day Bart just about loses his reputation as the school's "bad boy", because now he had to walk past all those glaring, staring eyeballs, whispering and bad mouthing him to the people next to them.

Before he starts his walk of shame, Bart sighs to prepare himself. He faces down with a frown, as he slowly walks past the clear aisle, and just as he expected, people began to talk.

"Hey, it's Bart! I heard from Chelsea that she heard from Nathan that _he_ heard from Sherri and Terri that he's into the art teacher!" One girl with long, brunette pig tails whispers to her neighbor.

"Y'know Bart's not a 'cool kid' anymore? He's a teacher's pet!" Janey says to Becky, who gasps in response.

"Yeah, he isn't acting the same... The last time he pulled a prank was a whole 4 days ago!" Chuck says to a boy next to him.

"Rumor has it, Bart and Ms. Tindol are smoochin' behind the lockers!" Adrian says to Richard, who both chortle.

"I heard Bart Simpson goes to our school!" Ralph blurts with a dopey expression. Classic Ralph...

Bart had finally reached the back. It took 10 seconds, but it felt like 10 years to him.

Once Lisa sees her brother, she puts down the book she had her nose buried in, and scooches herself over to the window seat so he'd have a place to sit. "Hi there, Bart!"

"Hi..." He replies in a sullen tone, taking his seat. "So, you've heard the news, huh?"

"News? I don't recall there being any news..." Lisa says, tapping her chin. Bart should've guessed. Lisa was fairly socially-inept, so it wasn't unlikely for her not to be informed by the latest rumor. He then rests his elbow on his knee and sets his head on his hand, wearing a gloomy expression.

"Oh, and by the way!" Lisa says, now grinning from ear to ear. "I met Ms. Tindol today, and I really like her! She's so unique and unorthodox... Sort of reminds me of another one of my teachers..." She smiles with sentiment, looking down as she thinks of him.

"Today in art class, she complimented my pony drawing!" Lisa smiles. "She said it had great depth, and showed an amazing understanding of analogous coloring!"

Lisa, still smiling, looks over to her brother, but her smile drops once she realized he wasn't saying anything and looked unhappy. This would usually be the part where Bart made some wisecrack about her intelligence, but he didn't say a word. She taps her chin.

"Bart, what's wrong?" She questions, moving herself closer to her older brother. Bart doesn't reply for a whole 10 seconds.

"Mmm.." He murmurs, looking down. He then shifts his pupils to his sister. "... Hey, Lis?"

"Yeah?" The concerned sister replies.

"You're really smart. Can I ask you a question?"

Lisa was touched to hear Bart say that, even if she didn't show it on her face. "Sure." She says.

"Well.. Uh.. I'm asking this for a friend... A really cool friend..." Bart lies. "So, what if this friend, who doesn't usually like his teachers, or adults in general, started to really take a liking to a certain one, because she was really cool and liked his artwork... Would that make him a teacher's pet?"

" _Odd question..._ " Lisa thought. Why would Bart ask such a strangely specific query? And then it hit her.

The way he had awkwardly constructed the sentence, the terms he had used, it was clear to her Bart was talking about himself, and just didn't want to admit it. So she decides to play along.

"So... This _friend_ you're talking about... Is he in your class?" Lisa says with a smirk.

"Uh.. I guess you could say that.." Bart answers.

"What are his hobbies?"

"Y'know, regular 4th grade stuff... Like playing pranks on his dad, skateboarding, y'know, the usual." He begins to get noticeably nervous.

"Have I seen this friend around?"

"Q-Quite a few times.."

Lisa's smirk grows. "What's his name?"

"Can you just answer the question?!" Bart asks with frustration. Lisa chuckles.

"Well, Bart... I don't think your 'friend' is a teacher's pet at all." Lisa smiles.

"You don't?" Bart says with astonishment (and relief).

Lisa nods her head "no", whilst making the onomatopoeic sound for it. "If anything, I think your 'friend' should embrace his appreciation for his teacher and not let anything or anyone stop him from doing so."

"Really...?"

Lisa nods her head.

"..." The end of Bart's mouth curls up a bit, forming a discreet smile. "Well.. I'll tell my friend what you said.."

"Good. I hope your friend takes my advice.." His sister replies. "Your... Blonde, spiky haired friend.."

"Hey! I never said he had blonde spiky hair!" Bart exclaims defensively, giving his sister a playful shove. She shoves back, laughing as she did so. The two siblings begin play wrestling on the bus seat, chuckling to their heart's content. Lisa couldn't help but be happy for her brother, knowing he finally found something to look forward to at school, and Bart felt exactly the same.

* * *

Our final scene starts in the Simpson's home. More specifically, the upstairs hallway. Bart and Lisa had gotten off the bus, entered their house, greeted their parents and baby sister, and walked upstairs to enter their rooms.

Once they had reached the corridor, the two parted ways, entering their respective bedrooms.

Bart opens the door to his room, with its fuchsia walls covered in various "Krusty the Clown" posters. He then takes a seat at his desk, puts his backpack down so its resting on the chair, and rests his hands under his chin in silence.

"So, Bart, it's official... You like a teacher..." He says, talking to himself. "Hell, almost like you'd like a friend..." Bart looks down at his floor, and stares at his backpack for a few seconds. He begins unzipping it. "But maybe..." He trails off.

Once his bag is completely open, he removes his painting. He holds it up in front of his desk and smiles at it.

"... Maybe... That isn't such a bad thing..."

He lies the canvas on his desk, and gets up to go find some paints.


	4. Change of Bart

Disclaimer - The rights to _The Simpsons_ and its characters belong to Matt Groening, the Fox Broadcasting Company, and any others associated with the show. No profit is being made from this fanfiction, this is all just for fun :)

 _ **I apologize for yet, another, long chapter... Hope you can overlook it, lol. Enjoy!**_

 _ **(Also, sorry for the late update! As I said, I've been having trouble accessing my computer/phone and I'm very busy with my studies. This morning I woke up and gasped when I realized "I DIDN'T UPLOAD THE CHAPTER OH GOD". Because of this, I'll be uploading the next chapter later today to stay on schedule.)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 4 - Change of Bart**

"Now, class. Who can tell me how to reduce this fraction?"

Mrs. Krabappel stood in front of her class, with the fraction "3/12" on the board in white chalk. The class was silent and no one rose their hand. Except a certain student, though Mrs. Krabappel chose to ignore them.

"Anyone?" She repeats. The hand begins to shake frantically, and the owner of it bit his lip and was shaking like a boiling kettle, eagerly hoping to be called on.

Mrs. Krabappel waited a few more seconds for another student to raise their hand, but alas, no one made a sound. She sighs, giving up. "Martin...?" She reluctantly says, calling on the excited student.

"Oh! Oh! It's 1/4, Mrs. Krabappel!" He replies with enthusiasm. Mrs. Krabappel writes the answer he had said. "Yes, Martin. Once again, you are the _only_ student to raise their hand..."

"Yes, well, I don't mean to show off, but-"

"And since he's answered the last 27 questions, I think it's about time one of _you_ gets a turn." The teacher interrupts. Martin's proud grin became a disappointed frown. "Nooo!" He yells, clenching his fists in the air with agony. "Please, Mrs. K! J-Just one more question! It can even be an easy one! L-Like finding the area of circle's sectors based on their respective radii!"

"You've answered quite enough today, Mr. Prince." Mrs. Krabappel says. "Let's give someone else a chance, shall we?"

He sighs, looking down. "I suppose it's only fair..."

It had been a few days since where we last left off. Nothing new had really happened, except the Bart rumor had died down just a little bit. Though there were still some traces lingering around.

Currently, we are in Mrs. Krabappel's last period class of the day. The school day was ending in only a few more minutes, and Bart had his eyes glued on the clock, intently waiting for the class to end. Except for once, it wasn't so he could egg some neighbor's house or bleach nasty phrases onto their lawn. It was for a much different reason. Bart was sitting at his desk, doodling in his notebook like he usually did.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Krabappel had written a new problem on the board, now reading "12/20". "Ok, who can answer this one?"

Martin raises his hand again. Mrs. Krabappel sighs.

"Except for you, Martin..." She groans.

"It's a force of habit!" Martin says.

Mrs. K looks away from his hand and faces the other quiet students. She raises an eyebrow.

"Seriously?" She blurts. "You rascals can yell non-stop for 30 minutes straight in the school cafeteria but suddenly become mice when asked a question in class?" The students look at each other silently.

"... Hmph. Well then... I suppose I'll just have to call on one of you myself." She smirks. Every students' eyes grow to the size of saucers, and gulp, nervously awaiting to see who is called on.

"Hmm..." Mrs. Krabappel says, scanning the classroom, looking for the most inattentive- Er... I mean, most eager and ready student to pick on. Just about every student was internally praying not to be the unlucky kid, while others tried avoiding eye contact to see if that would work. Whilst scrutinizing the 4th graders, Edna's eyes stop on Bart, who didn't even notice this, as he was still attentively drawing in his spiral notebook. She decides to take advantage of this.

"Hm. How about..." She says, holding the last syllable of "about" for suspense. The students shook with fear.

"... Bart Simpson!" She says with a smug grin.

Relieved, the other kids sigh. However, this catches the unsuspecting Bart by surprise.

"Hm?" He lifts his head off. "What's goin' on?" A few students snicker.

Mrs. Krabappel slowly begins approaching Bart, her hands behind her back. "Bart, I'm calling you. Can you please answer the question on the board?"

Bart looks over at the fraction on the chalkboard, and stares with uncertainty. "... Uhh.." He tugs at his collar with severe apprehension. "Erm..."

"Just what I thought. You weren't paying attention, were you?" She questions, getting closer to him. The more steps she took, the faster Bart's heart beat.

"W-Well, I..." He trails off. The entire class had their eyes stuck on Bart.

A few seconds later, Edna had reached Bart's desk, and she wasn't wearing a very pleased expression.

"Mr. Simpson, I'm waiting." She sternly says, now tapping her foot. Bart wasn't sure what to reply with, so he just sat in silence.

As the teacher glared at Bart, she began to take note of the notebook on his desk and pencil he was holding. Now remembering it was the exact reason she picked on him in the first place, she abruptly snatches it off his desk.

"What's this?" She asks, taking the book. This gets Bart attention, and he frantically tries to grab it from her clutches. "Hey! Give that back!" However, it's no use. She holds the book up to her face and examines it closely. Her austere glower soon became a neutral, somewhat surprised glance.

"Oh... That's funny.." She mumbles. "I thought you were making another one of your blueprints for your silly pranks, but you're just doodling! Not that I condone this anymore than that... Hm, y'know what, that almost looks like that new art teacher..." She points out one specific doodle on the sheet: a drawing of a woman that _did_ somewhat resemble Ms. Tindol.

Bart reddens. "Hey! G-Gimme that back!" He snatches the book back from her and slams it shut. He crosses his arms and faces forward with an angry glare, the class now erupting with laughter.

"Bart and Tindol sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!" The class sang, only laughing even more. Bart could feel his rage heightening, just about to ready to lose it. However, he began to gradually calm his nerves, as he remembers back to what Lisa had told him a few days ago. He sighs, and sits up, trying his best to ignore these taunts.

"First comes love, then comes marriage-"

"Class! We're _trying_ to have a lesson here!" Edna cuts. "You can make fun of Bart during recess. Now, as I was saying-"

Just then, the final bell rings, and the students cheer, as they get out of their seats and head for the door.

"... Why do I still try..." Krabappel sighs, looking down with hopelessness.

It didn't take too long for the hallways to be swarming with bustling, eager kids practically sprinting to get to the bus lot. Staff members and teachers nearly fell into the herd of children as they ran through them as if they were not there. Lisa, being the shrewd, clever girl she was, managed to get past the crowd like nothing. Once she was outside in the clear, she walked to the bus at her own pace.

Once Otto sees the second grader, he opens the door, allowing her to walk up the steps and enter. "Good afternoon, Otto!"

"It's afternoon already?!" The dazed bus driver asks. "Woah... I've gotta lay off the lettuce..."

Just then, the crowds of students had gotten out, and were rushing to their respective busses. Lisa quickly takes her seat before she gets run over through the aisle. She scans the crowds of kids for her brother, but unfortunately, doesn't come across him.

"Hm... That's peculiar... Bart should be out by now..." Lisa says. "Maybe he's just running a little late."

She peers out of the bus window, and notices there aren't too many kids left, and none of them were Bart. She gets a somewhat worried look on her face.

"Oh my... Where _is_ he?" Lisa frets. "He'd never miss a chance to come home from school! Or..." She grimaces. "Of course... He must've gotten in trouble again? He's probably writing on the chalkboard or clapping erasers for Mrs. Krabappel..." She sighs. "And to think I thought Bart changed his ways since I talked to him. Guess I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up."

And with that, Otto backed up the school bus and begins to drive off.

* * *

We fade back to Springfield Elementary. The hallways were vacant and quiet, only having the loose sheets of crumbled notebook papers and broken pencils to occupy them. Barely anyone was still in the building, and the few people who were were in one of its many rooms. The teachers were in their classrooms, packing up to return home after the long, tedious day. Then there were the various staff members, such as Willie and Doris, finishing up their duties before they headed out. Detention was occupied by the regulars: Jimbo, Kearney, Dolph, and Nelson. Strangely, Bart wasn't present. Skinner was reluctantly monitoring them, sitting at the main desk, trying to work on his mini war model project, delicately placing the pieces onto it to perfect it. It seemed like everyone in the building was busy with their own thing.

But we still haven't talked about Bart, have we? He wasn't on the bus, he wasn't in the detention, where else could he possibly be?

We pan to one of hallway corners, where we see the yellow scamp standing, his back rested on the wall. Currently, he was digging in his backpack for something.

"C'mon, c'mon... I know you're in there..." He murmurs to himself. Once he feels what he was looking for, he smirks. "Ah-ha!"

He pulls out his iconic "lucky red hat" and plops it on top of his spiky hair. He zips up his backpack and wears it. Bart then looks at his Krusty the Clown themed watch, which was wrapped around his right arm.

"Ok, I've still got some time." He says to himself, and begins walking to his unknown destination in the school building.

Meanwhile, back in the detention room, Skinner was still hard at work on his model.

"Hmm.. The barracks will go here.." He carefully places his small, model barracks onto his set, using tweezers, just to be precise. "And this soldier will be right over..."

"Hey, look! Skinner's playing will dollies!" Jimbo blurts, pointing at the principal from his seat. Kearney and Dolph laugh in response, while Nelson does his iconic "ha-ha".

"These aren't dolls!" Skinner claims. "It's a meticulously sculpted micro-model of "World War II", crafted entirely by hand! And it's _not_ for little girls, like you childish simpletons claim..."

"Who said anything about little girls?" Jimbo asks, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah! What, did you just _assume_ we were talking about girls because we mentioned dolls?!" Kearney questions, raising his fist up.

"Your tasteless gender labels disgust me!" Nelson growls. He then picks up his weighty backpack and throws it straight at Skinner's desk, causing the model to spill everywhere, completely ruining its orientation. A few components of the diorama even end up snapping in half.

Skinner gasps. "My model!"

"Hmph! Maybe you'll think next time before spouting your unintelligible, chauvinistic ideals!" Dolph hisses, crossing his arms.

"That's it, 2 more hours detention!" Skinner fumes.

"What? For taking a stand?" Nelson inquires.

"No! For reckless behavior!" Skinner shouts, getting up from his seat. "Look what you've done! Now I'm gonna have to go to the store and buy new pieces, and mother is gonna get fed up with me and ask where I've been all night, and when she finds out it was to get new parts for my model, she'll get even angrier and make me sleep on the couch for the next week! I swear, that woman can be a pill... Just don't tell her I said that!" The bullies roll their eyes.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way to the lavatory. Don't do anything I wouldn't appreciate." He states coldly, right before exiting the room.

"Well that was vague." Nelson says. "How the hell are we 'spose to know what he doesn't appreciate?"

"Hey! Let's fill his desk with boogers and see if he appreciates _that_ _!_ " Jimbo suggests. The 3 boys chuckle devilishly, as they get up and approach Skinner's desk.

Skinner begins his walk to the restrooms throughout the hallway, whistling a tune as he did so. A few steps later, he had reached the men's restroom. He was just about to lay his hand on the handle, until he overheard the pitter-patter of feet from the other side of the hall. He immediately felt his "Skinner Sense" tingling.

"... Hm... That's odd. I thought I just heard-"

The footsteps are heard again, and Skinner's eyes grow. He walks away from the bathroom to where the footsteps were heard.

"Hello? Who's there?" He calls out as he walks there. However, when he gets there, the hallway is just as empty as it was before. He scratches his head quizzically.

"Hm..." He mumbles, still scratching himself. Slowly, he begins walking towards the next hallway, his dress shoes making an ever so quiet "clomp" as it hit the floor every now and then. Once he's standing at the very end of the hall, he abruptly jumps to the next one, his knees bent and his eyes widened.

"Ah- _ha!_ " He exclaims with his finger pointed, thinking he finally found the wanderer. However, he was once again mistaken, as no one was seen. He regains his posture and looks to the ground with a rather embarrassed expression. "Hmph... Fine, be that way... Just know I'll find you, and when I do, I'll-"

There were those darn footsteps again. Except, something seemed familiar about them (to Skinner, at least). There was one small detail Skinner couldn't miss, even if he tried. He squints his eyes and clenches his fists by his side, now scowling.

"I notice the sounds of those soles from anywhere..." He hisses. Swiftly, he shifts past the lockers and finally spots the culprit: Bart Simpson. Bart, unaware that he was being watched, stood still, moving his pupils around to see if anyone was there. Thinking he was alone, Bart continued walking.

"Just as I suspected..." Seymour says. "I was confused as to why Bart didn't receive detention, and now it all makes sense! He must be _skipping!_ If I didn't know better, I'd say he was plotting some kind of insidious prank! Well, not this time!" Seymour starts following Bart. "The bathroom can wait... I intend to catch him right in the act..."

Discreetly, the principal begins to tail Bart from behind, keeping a 15 foot distance in between them. Usually, he'd go right ahead and yell at Bart now that he had him where he wanted him, but Seymour's noticed that never seems to work, so he decided to try a new method: Wait till Bart is seconds away from his prank, immediately he gets there to do _whatever_ he had planned, he catch him by surprise, now that the evidence was clear in sight.

Bart didn't look to be stopping anytime soon. The walk seemed to drag on forever, but Skinner kept his persistence none the less. He just kept telling himself: " _It'll all be worth in the end. It'll all be worth it once I finally catch that no-good hellion right in the act... For once, I won't be berated by Chalmers because Bart was just 'on his way to the bathroom' or 'didn't mean to pull that fire alarm'. No more will I hear such careless excuses, because this time, there won't **be**_ _any excuses.._ " The end of his lips curve up into a smirk.

A few seconds later, Bart has reached the final hallway, and slows his steps down. Once he's completely still, Skinner stops also, waiting for his next move. Just to be safe, Seymour hides behind a nearby row of lockers, still peeking out so he doesn't miss anything.

Strangely enough, Bart was standing in front of the art room. That was the last place Skinner expected him to strike.

"The art room, huh?" Skinner whispers to himself, arching a brow. "Why, of course... The possibilities are endless! He could coat the entire room with paint, maybe even draw something on the other kids projects... Even worse, he could rearrange the markers in the incorrect lineup order..." He shudders at the mere thought of such an iniquitous deed.

Bart's hand dramatically neared the knob, and Skinner could only watch in anticipation. It felt like minutes, even hours were passing in those mere seconds. Skinner just couldn't wait to _finally_ succeed in a day of his life.

His hand crept closer... And closer... _And..._

 _Knock! Knock!_

Bart didn't open the door. He _knocked_ on it.

Skinner's eager grin turns into a blank expression. "What the...? Why is he knocking? He's probably just... Ch-Checking! Yes! To make sure no one's in there first!" His anxiety was apparent in his face.

Bart stood silently, waiting for the door to be answered. In a few seconds time, it was opened by Ms. Tindol, who towered over him like the many other adults of Springfield.

"Hello, Bart." She pleasantly says with a smile.

"Hi, Ms. T." Bart responds, smiling just a little bit.

"How are you?" She asks.

"I'm good..." Bart scratches his arm, and averts his eyes. ".. How are you?" He adds hesitantly, not being very used to asking such a question.

"I'm well, thank you for asking."

Skinner squints his eyes, trying his best to listen in on what was going on.

"No... This can't be right..." He mumbles. "Was she _expecting_ him...?" Now he was even more confused.

"What brings you here?" Tindol asks. "Not that I'm complaining. It's always good to see my star student."

Bart blushes. "Uh... I was just wondering if I could finish one of my pieces...?"

Ms. Tindol grins. "Of course you can. Which one?"

"The clay sculpture from last class."

"Ok, let me go get it." Ms. Tindol heads back into her classroom to the closet where the projects were stored. Bart follows her, shutting the door behind him. Skinner still wore his blank, surprised expression.

"... My god... I hope I haven't been taking mother's medication again..." And with that, he returns back to the restroom.

Meanwhile, Ms. Tindol was still looking through the closet for Bart's sculpture. He stood behind her, watching.

"I really appreciate you coming after school to work on it." She says, still facing the open closet. "Shows how much you care about art." She smiles. Bart only murmurs in response. "Oh, there it is!" She says, as she carefully pulls out Bart's clay sculpture, which was an unfinished skull that resembled Bart, what with its spiky head. All he had to do was finish molding out a few parts, and it'd be finished. Ms. Tindol turns around to hand Bart the artwork.

"Here you go." She says. Bart takes it from her.

"Thanks." He replies.

She notices the red cap he's wearing and beams.

"Nice hat!" She says, playfully flicking its bill. Bart hold onto its sides to keep it from flying off.

"Yeah, it's my lucky hat." He explains. "It brings me good luck, but it also wards off evil spirits!"

"I see..." The teacher giggles. "How long have you had it?"

"About 6 years, I think." Bart says. "I can remember it like it was yesterday..."

* * *

We "squiggle-fade" into a flashback from 6 years ago. Bart, aged 4, is walking outside with Homer, who is in his early 30's, still having his brown hair (though it's slightly receding, as he's gradually beginning to lose it). The two were walking through a bustling sidewalk, and Homer was holding onto his son's hand.

Bart quickly removed his hand from his grasp. "Homer, you don't have to hold my hand! I'm 4! I can walk by myself!" He pouts.

"Bart, I just don't want anything to happen to you." His father explains with a somewhat worried expression. "You know, little kids like you end up getting snatched up from the streets by those old creeper guys and taken to their houses..."

"Well, what do they do to kids like me in their houses?" Bart asks naively.

Homer gets on one knee so he's nearly his son's height, and places his hand on his shoulder. "You see, Bart, first they lock you up in their basement, and _then,_ they make you become their life-long slaves in their secret chocolate factory! Forcing you to work day and night, 24/7, without a single lunch break! You can't even eat the chocolate! They'll also make you wear these dopey uniforms and force you to sing this stupid jingle _all_ the time."

"Really?" Bart asks, wide-eyed.

"Mmhm. Trust me, son, you do _not_ wanna get wrapped up in that mess." Homer gets back up and continues walking. Bart immediately grabs back onto his hand.

Not too far from them were Gavin and _his_ mother.

 ** _(A/N: In case you don't know/remember who Gavin is, he's the really spoiled kid from "Marge Be Not Proud", at the "Try-N-Save" mall who forces his mother to buy him another Bonestorm. He was also seen in "Lisa Gets an 'A'", if I'm not mistaken. Keep reading.)  
_**

Gavin, who was also aged 4, walked alongside his blonde, busty mother. Gavin looked exactly the same as he did in the present, except he was much shorter and was wearing a very familiar red cap.

The boy wore an angry pout on his face. "Hmph! I still can't believe Aunt Matilda bought me this stupid hat for my birthday in stead of 'Bloodstorm' like I asked!" He gripes in his squeaky voice.

"Gavin, honey, I told you I'd buy you that game tomorrow." She explains, facing forward with her usual straight faced expression.

"Well I wanted it on my _birthday!_ All you got me were 2 new gaming consoles and 5 crappy games that no one even plays anymore!" Gavin whines, crossing his arms. "I hate you and this stupid hat!" He grabs the red cap and throws it in the air behind him.

When it finally hits the ground, it lands right in front of Homer and Bart, who stop once they see it.

"Woah, did you see that, Bart?" Homer marvels. "That cap just fell from heaven! Guess God didn't want it or somethin'."

"Ooh..." Bart says, picking the hat up. "Homer, can I keep it?"

"Can you keep it? Hell no!" Homer demands. "You don't know what God could've done with that hat! Now give it here!" Homer tries to snatch the hat from him, but Bart quickly moves it away from him and puts it over his head, grinning.

"Why you little-!" Homer reaches his hand to strangle Bart, but Bart once again dodges him, and begins running, laughing as he did.

"Ha ha! Na-na na-na boo boo! You can't catch me!" Bart teases. Homer chases him with rage.

"Grrr!" He growls with fury. "Once I get my hands on you, boy, I'll-" Just then, Homer trips over a nearby black cat, causing him to stumble over.

"Ah!" He shrieks. This causes him to then crash into a large mirror sheet being carried by two men.

"'Go through the sidewalk' you said... 'It'll be better than going through the _road_ ' you said..." One man says to the other, who rolls his eyes at his pettiness.

Homer, now covered in shards of glass, continues stumbling through the sidewalk, coincidentally, right under a ladder. He then falls onto his back and continues stumbling through the bumpy sidewalk a few more times, landing him straight into an open sewer. He shrieks as he falls through it, and delivers his signature "D'oh!" Once he lands. Little Bart smiles as he watches the whole thing happen.

"Wow! I've always wanted that to happen!" He smiles. He then looks under him, and sees he has his foot planted on a $10 bill. He gasps and picks it up.

"Wow!" He exclaims once more. "This can buy me a house!" He takes the red hat off and smiles at it. "From now on... You'll be my lucky red hat!"

"Bart?" Homer moans from inside the sewer. "C-Can you get help, please?"

"Ok! I'll see if I can-"

"Free ice cream! Get your free ice cream!" A nearby ice cream man hollers. This of course catches Bart's attention.

"Ooh! Free ice cream!" He rejoices, abandoning his father to get some. Homer groans.

* * *

As the flashback ends, Bart chuckles to himself. "Yup... Good times..." He sighs.

"How about you sit at your desk and I bring you some sculpting materials?" Tindol suggests. Bart nods happily, and makes his way to his seat.

Immediately he sits down, Ms. Tindol is already back with the clay sculpting tool, and places a cup of various sculpting knives in front of him. "Here you go." She says. "You remember how to use them, right?"

"Mmhm." Bart says, taking a blade, immediately getting to work. "Just gotta even out some edges here... Smooth out this part, and maybe add somethin' here..."

Ms. Tindol watches Bart with joy and fulfillment, proud to see her pupil hard at work.

"You're quite a fast learner, Bart. It took me months to get the hang of these tools." Ms. Tindol says, picking one up from the cup.

"It's not all that hard if you're used to it." Bart says, still hard at work on his skull.

"Oh, do you sculpt at home?" She asks.

"Nah, I mean it's sorta like whittling." He explains. "I like to whittle my own slingshots."

"Oh, you do?" She asks.

"Mmhm." He nods.

"Sounds pretty bitchin'..." She smiles. Bart drops his tool.

"Hey... You just said-"

"Bitchin'? I'm aware." Bart doesn't speak for a few seconds, and merely stares at her with large eyes. "Is there a problem?"

"I've never heard a teacher say that..." He mumbles, scratching his chin. "What else do you know? My mom doesn't let me hear anything above a PG rating, so I've been missing out on a ton! You've gotta let me in on what's going on behind closed doors, Ms. T!" He begs.

"Mmm.. Maybe later." She grins. "How about you keep working on your sculpture?"

"Oh, right!" Bart says, remembering he still had to finish that up. "I'm almost finished! I just need to hollow out the eyes."

"Take your time." She says.

He continues adding onto his nearly-finished sculpture. After a moment of silence, Ms. Tindol speaks again.

"... Bart?" She says.

"Mmhm." He replies.

"You know, I met your little sister a few days ago. She's a very sweet, intelligent girl." Ms. Tindol beams.

" _Haven't heard that before..._ " Bart says in his head.

"You guys are very... _Different._ " She adds.

"Yeah, we're different alright... I need to be 'more like her', don't I?" He asks.

"I never said that." Ms. Tindol says. "You're fine just the way you are, Bart. You both are."

Hm, that was new. "Oh... Well, thanks..." Bart says, quite shocked.

Bart gouges the clay out of his sculpture, forming large, empty circles to act as the eyes of the skull. He smooths the inside a bit more, and once he finishes, he holds it out in front of him proudly.

"Voila! My Skull-pture!" Bart announces, putting emphasis on the "skull". "Get it? _Skull_ -pture? Because it's a skull!"

Tindol giggles. "I get it. Very clever, and you did an amazing job."

"Thanks! I mean, I know I did, but it's nice to get a second opinion." Bart replies. "I can't wait to take this baby home and put it on my shelf!"

"You can't take it home yet." Ms. Tindol says, taking the small sculpture from him.

Bart frowns. "Why not?"

"Because it's not done yet." She explains.

"What do you mean it's not done? I just said I finished!" Bart claims.

"I _mean_ it's not _done_ yet." She says. "You can't just take it home like that. We have to heat it up in the kiln first."

"Kiln?" Bart asks with apparent perplexity. "What's that?"

"It's an oven. It's where I'm gonna keep your sculpture."

"An oven?! But then it'll melt! Or burn!" Bart worries.

"Don't worry, it'll just harden up." Ms. Tindol assures him, patting his cap.

"Oh..." Bart says with relief. "Can I see?"

"Sure!" Ms. Tindol says. "C'mon, it's in the other room."

She takes Bart to another door in the art room. Once it's opened, a small room is revealed, containing various boxes, shelves, and paint cans, but right in the middle stood the large kiln.

"Woah... Is that it?" Bart asks, pointing at the huge boiler. Ms. Tindol nods. Bart rushes towards it with glee.

"Ay caramba!" He exclaims. "How does it work?!"

Ms. Tindol approaches it casually, and lifts the large top off. She presses a button, which turns it on. The inside of the kiln begins gradually heating up.

Bart tries to peek inside of it. He has to hold onto its lid, as he was a few inches shorter than the large heater.

"Cool! This reminds me of Radioactive Man #61, where Radioactive Man gets trapped in Charcoal Briquette's lava lair, and has to find his way out!" Bart grins.

"Oh, Bart, be careful!" Ms. Tindol warns. "If you hold onto the lid long enough you might-"

It doesn't take too long for Bart to feel a burning sensation on his palms, causing him to immediately remove them.

"Ouch! Hot! Hot! Hot!" He exclaims, blowing on his steaming hands.

"Yeah..." Ms. Tindol says with a nervous smile. "Now we'll just put your sculpture in here to set for a while." Ms. Tindol carefully places his sculpture inside the kiln and closes it.

"How long will it take?" Bart asks.

"About a day." She replies.

"Mmm, ok." Bart says.

The two leave the room and Ms. Tindol shuts the door.

"Well, Bart, you best be on your way now." She smiles. "You don't wanna keep your parents waiting, now do you?"

"Eh, it's fine. They're probably eating this time up..." Bart says. "Besides, I kind of like hanging out with you."

Ms. Tindol warmly smiles, her hands placed on her chest. "Oh, you do?" She asks sweetly.

Bart nods smiling. "I guess. You're pretty cool for a girl..."

"Well, thank you, Bart..." Her dark cheeks become slightly maroon. "You're pretty cool for a boy."

The two are quiet for a few seconds, smiling as they avert their eyes from each other.

"... Er, hey Ms. Tindol?" Bart speaks up. She faces him to show he's received her full attention. "Well, I showed you _my_ drawings..."

"Yes." Ms. Tindol nods.

"So I was wondering if you could show me some of _yours._ " Bart continues.

"Of course." Tindol says. "Come to my desk, that's where I keep my sketchbook."

Bart follows Ms. Tindol to her desk. She opens her brown messenger bag (which was sitting on her desk) and pulls out a cream-colored sketchbook, with "Tindol, T" written in permanent marker at the top right. She hands Bart the book.

"Go nuts." She grins. Bart opens the book and stares in awe at the pictures drawn inside. He first opens to a realistic portrait of a woman. Then, flips to a detailed drawing of a rose, and an almost perfectly-drawn eye. (Though, seeing as this is the _Simpsons_ universe, you can't expect too much from a drawing of an eye)

Bart's mouth hung open. "Wow!" He gasps. "No _way!_ ". He continues flipping through, and sees even more detailed sketches. "Oh my god... You drew these, Ms. T?"

She nods her head.

Bart couldn't look away. To the naive 10 year old, it looked like something out of an actual museum. He could even feel a slight wave of discouragement and envy wash over him.

"How did you... How do you even draw like that?!" He asks in astonishment. "You're so good at this! Much better than me..." He mumbles the last sentence.

"Oh, Bart. Don't worry." Ms. Tindol reassures him. "All it takes is a little practice and dedication. It took me years before I got this good. Just keep drawing and you'll gradually get better."

"Really?" Bart asks, looking away from the book to face her.

"Really." She repeats, except as a declarative rather than a question.

Bart slowly forms a smile, now having a bit more faith in himself than he had initially.

"And remember, if you ever need any tips or advice, I'll be more than happy to help you." She smiles.

"Thanks." Bart says, closing her book and giving it back to her. She puts it back in her messenger bag and zips it shut. "See you later, Ms. T." He says walking off.

"See you, Bart!" She cheerily says, waving goodbye. Bart waves back and puts his backpack on. He exits through the door.

Ms. Tindol continues smiling at the door after he had left. "That boy will go on to do great things..." She says to herself.

* * *

 _ **15 Minutes Later**_

Bart had just reached his home on his neon green skateboard. It was almost evening, and the sky was slowly darkening into a cobalt color. He dragged his heel on the ground to stop once he reached the driveway. Once he's still, he kicks the skateboard on its end, causing it to stand up. Now carrying the board, he approaches his house door and rings the bell.

Meanwhile, inside, the family was gathered in the living room watching television like they usually found themselves doing at this time of day. They hear the doorbell.

"Someone's at the door!" Marge says in her croaky voice.

"Ooh! I bet it's the mailman!" Homer guesses. "Or the _milkman_ _!_ No! No! Maybe... The _meat_ man! Mmmm... Meat..." He drools.

"Homer, there's no such thing as a meat man." Marge states.

"I can dream!" Homer claims.

The ring is heard again.

"I'll get it..." Lisa reluctantly says, realizing if she doesn't take the initiative, no one will. She hops off the couch and walks over to the door. She reaches up to get the knob and is met with her older brother.

"Bart! There you are!" She says.

Marge gasps. "Is that Bart?!" She asks from the other room.

"Mmhm!" Lisa answers. She looks back at her brother with a slightly concerned expression. "Bart, where were y-"

"Bart! Get over here, now!" Marge demands. Bart gulps, and slowly walks over to the living room. Lisa follows him. Once he gets there, he nervously faces his mother, father, and baby sister.

"Er... Hi..." He mumbles.

"Bart, we were worried sick!" Marge says, sounding much more sympathetic. "Come over here and give Mommy a hug!" Before he can even react, his mother pulls him into a tight hug, which Bart tries to escape from. But everyone knows a mother's grasp is stronger than any other.

"What the hell took you so long, boy?" Homer queries.

"I was staying after." Bart answers, still in Marge's tight clutches. However, as soon as she hears his response, she stops embracing him and forms a rather ticked, angry expression.

"Bart! Detention, again?!" She exclaims, her hands now on her hips. "You just got sent there a week ago for sling-shotting the school librarian's wig off!"

"It wasn't for detention, Mom. I was staying after for art." Bart explains.

"Art?" Marge asks, confused. "You got in trouble with the art teacher?"

"I wasn't in trouble. I was finishing up a project." Bart simply states.

"An... Art project?" Marge says.

"Yes, and art project." Bart replies.

"... Voluntarily?". Bart nods. "So... You aren't in _any_ trouble? No trouble at all?"

"Not that I know of." He shrugs. "See ya." He scurries up the stairs into his room. The whole family is silent for a few seconds until Homer speaks up.

"... Oh my god... I can't believe this!" He exclaims.

"Me neither!" Marge replies.

"Yeah! It's all so crazy!" Homer continues. "How did this well-behaved kid who looks and sounds exactly like Bart break into our house like that?!" Marge murmurs and covers her face at Homer's density.

Meanwhile, Bart had just entered his room, and was now seated at his desk. In front of him was his open sketchbook. He stared at it blankly, as he began to think back to what Ms. Tindol had told him.

 _"All it takes is a little practice and dedication. It took me years before I got this good. Just keep drawing and you'll gradually get better."_

"Hm... Practice and dedication..." He repeats. Was it really that simple? If he just kept practicing, he'd get better? He never thought of it in such a way. He began to tap his chin with his wooden pencil, as he tried to think of what he could start off with, but couldn't think of a single thing. He rubbed his temples, hoping that other 90% of brain power would kick in.

"Think, Bart... Think..." He mumbles, clenching his eyes. Gradually, he begins to think back to a very recent art class.

 _ **(A/N: I'm trying to go for a bit of a "montage-esque" feel for these next few scenes. But seeing as this is just writing, it'll probably seem rushed and hard to notice lol.)**_

...

Our flashback starts in the art room (of course.). Ms. Tindol is standing in front of the class, next to the room's green chalkboard. On it, "10 ESSENTIAL TIPS FOR ART" was written in bold, chalk letters. The whole class sat down at their desks listening.

"Class, for the past few classes, I've just been letting you draw." The teacher says. "But I feel like I should actually give you some direction in your art. So today's class will be a full lecture on some key practices every young artist should implement into their lifestyles."

Disappointment was evident on many of the students' faces. As if doing art wasn't boring enough, now they had to _hear_ about it.

"Of course, I'm not going to tell you _how_ to draw. That would defeat the whole purpose of this class. I'm going to tell you how to become a better artist."

Sherri arches an eyebrow. "Isn't that the same thing?" She blurts.

"No, it's quite different." Ms. Tindol says. "I can't teach you how to draw, because there is no one way to draw. However, I can advise you all on how to become better artists." Some students still weren't catching on, but went along with it anyway.

"Let's begin, shall we?" Ms. Tindol says, now smiling. She turns to the board and begins writing the first step. "Step 1: Draw things you like. While this seems obvious, it's true, and very helpful for improving your art. Find something to enjoy and implement that into your art!"

...

We cut back to Bart, who's still staring at his sketchbook. However, after recalling what Ms. Tindol had said, he sprouted a new idea.

"Hm..." He gets up and runs to his clustered dresser. After some scrambling he pulls out one of his Radioactive Man comic books: _Radioactive Man #391: Revenge of the Amoeba Men._ He takes the comic back to his desk and starts doodling the cover, carefully paying attention to detail.

" _Mmm... Some lines over here, and a curve over there... Yeah, that's it!_ "

* * *

We cut to a later day. Bart is in the same position as he was prior: Sitting at his desk, drawing his favorite comic book character gleefully. He had already done about 7 pages of comic book covers he saw, and could feel himself slowly improving.

"Hey, I think I'm getting better at this!" Bart smiles. "Now, what else did Ms. T say..."

...

We cut back to our flashback, right where we had left off. Ms. Tindol began writing down the second rule on the board.

"Now that we've covered our first rule, onto our second." She announces. "Step 2: While I _did_ advise you all to draw what you love, it's never a bad idea to try something new. Escape from your comfort zone every now and then. I, personally, always find myself drawing portraits, so sometimes I try to branch out to other things like plants and animals."

...

"Try something new..." He says to himself. Now that he thought about it, he noticed he _has_ been drawing an awful lot of the same thing. It wouldn't hurt to do something he wasn't used to.

Bart steps off his chair and exits his bedroom. He makes a turn so he's standing in front of his sister's door. As usual, Bart barges in without consent. Lisa was sitting on her bed reading a novel, but peeks over to see her brother.

"Knock much?" She asks with a mildly annoyed expression.

"Stink much? Where's your stupid plant?" Bart shoots.

Lisa looks over to her dresser at a white flower sitting in a purple pot. Surrounding the pot were various beakers and pipettes. "You mean my epiphyllum oxypetalum? No way! It's nearly endangered and I need it for my experiment, so hands off!"

"Don't have a cow, Lisa, it's just for a quick second." Bart says, reaching for the plant. Lisa quickly takes it away from the dresser and holds it towards her. "Please?" He pleads.

"Hmph... You aren't gonna mess with it, are you?" Lisa asks.

"No! I promise." Bart says.

"So, I don't wanna see any spiders in it! Real _or_ fake!"

"Cross my heart."

Lisa squints at Bart for a few seconds without a word, and eventually hands it over to him.

"If I don't get it back in 3 minutes, I'm calling Mom and Dad. 5, I'm calling the police." Lisa says. Bart takes the plant.

"Thanks!" He says, right before leaving and returning back to his room. He sets the white flower in front of him and takes his seat. He attentively examines the plant as he attempts to replicate what he sees on paper. This took much more concentration and heed than drawing simple comic book covers like he was before. It took him a whole 5 minutes to get a single petal down.

He was just getting on to the second one until his hand slipped, causing him to mess one up. Bart frowns, still having some problems dealing with his artistic frustration. He was tempted to just stop the picture all together, before thinking back to the same memory of his teacher.

...

"Step 3: It's ok to make mistakes. Nobody's perfect." She explains. "In stead of being discouraged by your mistakes, learn from them, so you know how to improve next time. In fact, sometimes you can work off from your mistakes and use them to your advantage. That brings us to step 4: be patient with yourself. It takes time to get the hang of something new, and it's best not to rush yourself."

...

Pencil still rested on the same slip-up spot, Bart looks down at his picture blankly.

" _It's ok._ " Bart recites in his head. " _Like Ms. Tindol said, you can work off from it... Whatever that means._ "

He slowly drags his pencil backwards, so it is in the middle of the first petal and the second undone one, giving it more detail. He smiles.

"Yeah! I like that better!" He says, now encouraged. "And if I keep going with _this_ petal then..." He smirks. "Bart Simpson, you're a genius."

That's when, unexpectedly, Lisa barges into Bart's bedroom, similar to how he had done only mere minutes ago.

"Bart! Are you done with my plant yet?!" She yells at the top of her lungs. Bart nearly tumbles out of his seat at the abrupt sound of her voice.

"L-Lisa!" Bart stammers, frantically covering the sketchbook in front of him.

"I said are you done? I'm starting to get worried, and it's past its feeding time!" She holds up a small pipette containing a green liquid. Bart doesn't reply, still hiding the book from her. Lisa silently stares at him.

"... What are you doing?" She queries, her suspicions rising. She begins walking towards her anxious brother.

"Nothing! I-It's nothing! Mind your beeswax!"

"Doesn't look like nothing..." She mumbles. She now stood behind Bart's chair, who now had his whole head and arms shielding the book. "What have you got there? Is that a book?" She tries reaching over, but Bart quickly keeps it from her.

"Hey, back off!" Bart says.

"I just wanna see it, Bart! Come on!"

"No way!" The two siblings were now grabbing and pulling at each other's hair for Bart's possession. This goes on for some time, until Lisa shoves Bart with all her might, knocking him right off his chair onto the fuzzy ground. "Oof!" He exclaims with pain, now rubbing his head. Lisa uses this to her advantage and snatches the book from his sprawled out hand. She flips to the page he was initially on and stares at it.

"Oh... My.." She mumbles under her breath, unable to look away from the unfinished drawing. She slowly looks over at her kadupul flower, sitting on Bart's desk, and it doesn't take her very long to put two and two together.

"Bart, were you... Drawing my flower?" She asks him in a more caring tone of voice.

"Would you just give it back already?!" Bart demands, still lying on the floor. He abruptly takes it from her hands, gets up, sits down, and holds the book to his chest, facing away from Lisa with his face showing extreme chagrin for what had just taken place.

Lisa looks at her brother from behind him. "Bart, what's the matter?" She asks, coming closer. He doesn't respond. "Bart?" She repeats, coming closer. Still, he doesn't make a sound. Slowly, Lisa tries to touch Bart's shoulder in a consoling manner, but when she's mere nano meters from it, he turns his head around with rage.

"Leave me alone, Lisa!" He yells. "And you can take your stupid flower!" He chucks the pot at her, and she catches it onto her chest. Lisa frowns.

"I'm not leaving until you let me help you." Lisa states. "Now what's the problem?"

"I'll tell you the problem..." He hisses through gritted teeth. "The _problem_ is you won't take a hint and get out! I gave you the plant, what the hell else do you want?!"

"I want to help you!" Lisa shouts. "Now tell me the problem before I figure it out myself!"

Bart sighs. He takes his mind back to a comforting place.

...

"After step 4, we come to step-"

"Uh... Ms. Tindol?" Milhouse says, raising his hand up high.

"Yes, Milhouse?" She responds.

"Can I use the bathroom?" He asks. "And just in case you were wondering, it's _definitely_ to use the bathroom and not so I'd have an excuse to miss out on class! I-I mean, why would I even think of doing that? Even though I just mentioned it out of the blue like I was! Wh-Which I'm not! Because I'd never!" He begins to sweat.

Ms. Tindol sighs at Milhouse's terribly sad attempt at a lie. "Sure..." She murmurs, rolling her eyes a bit.

"Thanks!" He says, leaving his seat to exit the classroom. "Everything's comin' up Milhouse!" He smirks to himself.

"Anyways..." Ms. Tindol begins, getting back on topic. "Step 5: If you're going to be a good artist, you need to learn how to embrace your gift. Let the world know you _are_ an artist!"

...

Bart's agitated expression becomes a guilty frown.

"... Bart?" Lisa says, losing her patience for her brother.

Bart sighs once more, and still facing away from his sister, he says, "Lisa, I _was_ drawing you flower."

"You were?"

"Mmhm. You gonna laugh at me or something?"

"Oh, Bart! Why would I laugh at you?" She asks. "I think it's wonderful you've found a hobby!"

Bart turns to look at her "Hobby? Well, I don't think I'd go as far as to call it-"

"I can't believe this! I mean, I've always had a keen feeling deep down that you had a passion for art, but I'd never thought I'd see the day you pay heed to it! Wow!" Lisa smiles, still marveling at his drawing. "Can I look at the rest?"

"Uh... Sure." Bart says, smiling a tad.

Lisa flips through the sketchbook's pager with avidity, grinning at each entry. "Bart, if you keep this up, you'll be known around the world one day!"

"Really? You _really_ think so?" Bart says with disbelief.

"Mmhm!" Lisa nods. "Hm... Would this sudden change of heart possibly have to do with a certain... Art teacher?" She grins with all her teeth.

Bart gets noticeably pale. "... Maybe." He states straightforwardly.

Lisa giggles. "Figures... I'm proud of you, Bart."

"Proud of me for what?" He asks.

"For exploring your talent! It's nice to see you indulging yourself in something other than putting mothballs in the beef stew..."

"Hmph... Well thanks, Lis.." He mumbles, trying his best to hide his smile.

Lisa shuts the book and looks at her brother with a sweet, innocent expression. "Oh, Bart?" She sings. "Can you draw a picture of _me?_ "

Bart smirks, and takes his sketchbook from her. "No problemo." He begins swiftly sketching a picture on his sketchbook, turning to look at Lisa every so often. After a few seconds, Bart completes the portrait and hands it to his sister. "Here ya go."

She doesn't look at the picture. "Oh, thank you, Bart!" She smiles, excitedly rushing to her bedroom. Once she enters, she looks at the drawing Bart had made of her, only to be met with a crudely drawn image of her. Her mouth and head were drawn obnoxiously, her eyes were extremely disproportionate, and "stink lines" were emitting from her. At the top, "STARFISH HEAD" was written in bold letters.

" ** _BART!_** " Lisa yells at the top of her lungs, able to be heard throughout the living room, kitchen, and of course, her brother's room. Bart snickers to himself.

* * *

 ** _The Very Next Day..._**

Bart was seated in the house's living room, his legs crossed "Indian style" on the couch's cushions. His sketchbook sat on his lap, and he used his pencil to tap at his chin quizzically. To think he had only gotten into art a mere week ago and he was already suffering from serious artist's block.

" _Hm... What to draw... What to draw.._ " He ponders. His mind was a blank slate, not to mention the house was unusually silent, which only made it more difficult to think. He digs deeper into his mind, hoping to find an answer, and luckily, he does. Just not in the way he expected to.

...

"Step 6: If you're a beginning artist, something you can start with is drawing by observation." Ms. Tindol says. "Look around you and see what you can do with that!"

...

"Draw what's around me, ey?" Bart says. He looks at his surroundings, and it was as vacant and empty as it was before. "Hm... I can't do anything with _this._ Maybe I should go outside and see if I can find a dead possum to draw..." He's just about to get off the couch before he's interrupted by his father, who comes running towards him.

"Bart, do you have some time?" Homer asks, holding a Duff beer can.

"Depends. What is it?" Bart responds.

"So, me and Barney are having a 'beer burp-off' this Saturday and I don't intend on losing! Mainly because I bet me and Marge's engagement rings if I lost..." He says, mumbling the last part. "I've been practicing and I think I'm ready, but I need a second opinion. Could you listen to some of these and judge me on a scale from 1 to 10?"

"Alright, let's hear it." Bart grins.

Homer begins chugging down his can of beer and takes a big gulp in. It doesn't take too long for the air to send up through his stomach and exit from the front, causing him to deliver a monstrous belch. "Well, how was that?" Homer asks. "Good, really good, great, incredible, or perfect?"

"Mmm... Meh." Bart says with a so-so hand gesture.

"Why you little-!" Homer exclaims as he strangles a now gagging Bart. "I'll teach you to express your honest opinion when asked!" He says through several strains and grunts.

However, Homer eventually lets go of Bart when he overhears the approaching sound of smooth jazz coming from a familiar saxophone.

"Lisa! Take that infernal racket somewhere else!" Homer demands his daughter. Lisa removes her lips from her sax.

"But, Dad! This song just screams 'living room'!" She claims. "If I play it anywhere else it won't sound as good!"

"I don't care! Go to your room" Homer says. He then takes another long sip from his beer, and lets out another burp, which was succeeded by a few other ones.

Lisa raises her eyebrow. "Well, if you get to burp, I don't see why I can't play my music."

"Because I only want to hear decent, dignified sounds in the living room, Lisa." Homer says, right before belching again. Lisa rolls her eyes and chooses to disregard his opinion, as she continues playing her saxophone over Homer's burping.

That's when Marge enters the scene, holding the unplugged vacuum cleaner to her side. "This place is a mess! Homer, I thought I told you to pick up after yourself yesterday?"

"I was going to, Marge, but after eating those sweet, sweet donuts my mind blanked!" Homer says. Marge murmurs and shakes her head.

"Well, I guess I should've seen this coming..." She mumbles. Marge plugs in her vacuum, causing its loud "whirr" sound to emit from it. She drags the loud vacuum cleaner back and forth, making sure to cover every spot with that has crumbs. Homer continued his obnoxious eructing and Lisa continues blowing through her sax.

The vacuum attracts the pets, causing them to rush into the living room. Santa's Little Helper begins howling loudly, something he had a habit of doing when he heard the vacuum. Snowball ran up to the vacuum cleaner as well, but ends up getting her tail stuck in it. She shrieks in pain as she tries to escape from its clutches. Now we had Homer belching, Lisa's saxophone playing, Marge vacuuming, Santa's Little Helper barking, and Snowball meowing. This couldn't possibly get worse. Or maybe I spoke too soon.

Maggie slithers into the living room, sucking onto her pacifier like she usually did. She crawls up the couch and sits down, staring blankly. However, as she sucked, her pacifier falls right out of her mouth and rolls onto the floor. The absent-minded Marge doesn't notice this, and vacuums it up. Maggie doesn't take this very lightly at all, and bursts into tears right there. The room was hectic, what with Homer, Lisa, Marge, Santa's Little Helper, Snowball, and Maggie causing some kind of ruckus. Bart stares at his frenetic family, and decides to use this to his advantage.

He takes Ms. Tindol's advice and draws what he sees. A picture he liked to call: "The Simpsons in Their Natural Habitat", depicting his family in their current state. While the Simpsons weren't the brightest, they always seemed to know how and when to help.

 _ **(A/N: If you couldn't catch the reference to this whole scene, it's directly based off the "Bart Simpson: Original Maverick" cover, just in case you were wondering.)**_

* * *

...

"Step 7: Get inspiration. In order to make just about any piece of artwork, you must be inspired by someone or something. Your influence may be discernible in your piece, or it may be hidden beneath the surface. However you carry it out, it will _always_ be there."

...

Well, Bart had already gotten _that_ covered. He had an evident penchant for drawing "Radioactive Man". Whether it be covers, backgrounds, characters, you name it. He couldn't get enough of the comic, or comics in general. While it wasn't very noticeable to him yet, it would be a lie to say Bart wasn't showing any signs of improvement.

...

"Step 8: I hinted at this on step 2, but something else I would suggest is practicing with different artistic mediums. Pencils, pens, markers, colored pencils, acrylic, tempera, and it doesn't even stop there!"

...

Marge and Homer were both in the house's kitchen. Marge was hard at work on the dishes, suds coating her hands, while Homer was digging through the fridge for something to chew and/or slurp on.

In the middle of all this, Bart enters the kitchen, holding a magazine to his side.

"Mom? Dad?" Bart says, looking up at both of his parents.

"Hey, boy." Homer says, still scrounging for food.

Marge turns to face her son. "Hi there, Bart! How are you?"

"I'm fine..." He responds. "I was just wondering if you guys could buy me something...?"

Marge rolls her eyes a bit. "Bart, for the last time, we aren't buying you those firecrackers!"

"It's not that." Bart claims.

"Bart, for the last time, we aren't buying you that AR-15!" Homer says.

"It's not that _either_ _!_ " Bart says.

"Well, then what is it?" Marge asks, returning to the dishes.

Bart flips through the magazine he was holding, and opens it to a page with a large photo of a child's art set taking up more than half the page. Under the photo read "142-PC. DELUXE ART SET" in black letters. It came with color pencils, crayons, marker, and paints all ranging from red to cerulean. There were also pens, 2 sharpeners, and white erasers. The price was $45.

He holds the magazine up towards his parents.

"An... Art set?" Marge mumbles with disbelief. "You want us to buy you an art set?"

"What the hell are you gonna use that for?" Homer asks.

"To cut my hair." Bart says sarcastically.

The two parents continue to stare at the picture incredulously.

"Aw, why can't I get it?" Bart whines.

"We never said that, Bart." Marge says. "We're just... We just don't know what to say! I didn't know you liked you draw! When did this happen?"

Bart shrugs.

"Hm... Well, ok then.." Marge says. "It's just... $45 seems like a pretty steep price for a bunch of pencils and markers..."

"I figured you might say that." Bart says. "So I printed out this 25% coupon we could use!"

"25%?! It was $45 before, now we have to pay 25 more?!" Homer hisses.

"Homer, that means we're getting 25% _off_." Marge explains.

"Oh!" Homer says. "So we're paying $20?"

"Close enough..." Marge mumbles. "Ok, Bart, we'll buy you the art set."

"Yes!" Bart gleefully rejoices.

"But!" His mother adds, cutting his celebration short. "Only if you promise not to use it for 2 days and get rid of it the next! If I find that in the waste bin by next week, I'm seizing _all_ your video games! Including 'Lee Carvallo's Putting Challenge'!"

While that last statement didn't encourage Bart very much, that still didn't keep him from backing out of the agreement. "I promise." Bart says.

Marge glares at Bart for a few more seconds. "Mmm..." She murmurs. "Ok..."

Bart smiles once more, and runs off happily with his magazine, leaving a very confused Marge.

"I... I just don't get it! Am I missing something?" Marge stammers. Homer shrugs.

...

"Step 9-"

"Step 9! That's means we're almost towards the end!" Sherri whisper yells to her twin, loud enough for just about everyone to hear. Ms. Tindol grimaces.

"Erm... Right..." She mumbles. She gets back on topic. "So... Step 9: Don't be afraid to create new concepts! Of course, it's never bad to draw our favorite characters, but sometimes, it's better to be original than just draw what you see on television. Try, and you'll be amazed at what you come up with, I assure you."

...

"Think, Bart, think. You've come up with your own ideas before..."

It was true. While it sometimes proved challenging for him, Bart could be original when he wanted to. Take his comic, "Angry Dad", in contrast to his not-so-innovative "Danger Dude".

"Hm... Ok.. How about we start with a rough sketch?" He says to himself, pulling out a sheet of paper and a pencil to get started. He taps the lead on the white sheet.

"First you've gotta ask yourself, what do you want?" Bart says. "I'm thinking... A superhero!" Of course, that _was_ to be expected from a 10 year old boy. "I just need to think of a design and a name. Hmmm... Well, Ms. Tindol didn't say anything about taking people from _real_ life... But who could I see being a superhero?"

Bart looks out his bedroom window, only to see his whole family outside enjoying themselves. While he had cooped himself up in his room, he didn't even realize his sisters and parents were out in their yard enjoying a barbecue.

Homer stood in front of their grill, confidently flipping patties, while the females of the Simpson family were seated at a nearby picnic table.

"Homie, are the burgers almost ready?" Marge asks. "We've been waiting here for a whole hour!"

"Hold your horses, Marge, they're nearly done!" Homer says. "In fact, I just finished one! And I'm giving it to Lisa because she didn't make any comments about me taking too long, unlike _some_ people..." He coughs. "Marge and Maggie!" He murmurs quickly.

"Maggie can't even talk, Homer..." Marge says.

"Don't talk for Maggie, she can talk for herself!" Homer demands. He lifts up the finished patty with a spatula and sets it on a paper plate with a bun. He walks over to the table and sets it front of Lisa.

"Here you go!" He smiles. "A well-done burger for my well-done daughter!"

Lisa looks down at the burger with a crooked face. "Erm... Thanks, Dad, but you know I don't eat meat..."

"Oh, right!" Homer says. "I'll take care of that." He then pulls out a conveniently placed slice of lettuce from his pocket and puts it in her burger. "There! All better!"

"There's still some meat in there, Dad..." Lisa explains.

"Jeez, ok..." Homer says with an eye roll. He then removes the lettuce from the burger and takes the burger and bun for himself, leaving Lisa with a measly slice of lettuce on her platter.

She sighs. "Thanks..." She grumbles sarcastically.

"Now, back to the burgers!" Homer announces, returning to the grill. He hums to himself as he flips the other two. "Hm.. If I wanna get these things ready fast, I better turn up the heat!" Homer slowly turns the grill's dial to a higher setting, being careful not to go too high. "Steady... Steady..." He mumbles with precision. He had reached the perfect stopping point, not too hot, not too cold, and he was just about to let go until...

"Hi diddly ho, neighborino!" The pious Ned Flanders calls out from his own yard, wearing his usual cheery smile. "Just wanted to see how the barbecue-a-rino is goin'!"

This, of course, startles the unsuspecting Homer, causing him to accidentally turn the dial to its highest setting. A large fire erupts from the bottom of the grill which finds its way onto Homer's collared shirt.

"AHH!" Homer shrieks, as he runs around, frantically trying to remove his flaming shirt. "HELP! HEEEELP!"

"Well, you look a bit busy. I'll come back another time! See ya later, alligator!" Ned smiles, oblivious to Homer's current predicament.

"HOT! HOT! AHHH!" Homer shouts. Marge, Lisa, and Maggie merely stare at him blankly, unsure as to what to do. Then again, this was a pretty everyday situation for the Simpsons.

Bart does his iconic snarky laugh from his room, as he gleefully watches the scenario.

"Ha ha!" He cackles. "... Hm... Hey, maybe I can do something with that..."

Bart returns to his paper and begins speedily doodling a new picture. After a few minutes, the picture was complete, and was a drawing of all 5 members of his family, standing in triumphant, wacky poses, each clad in extravagant superhero costumes. Bart stood in the middle, and at the top, read: "THE SUPER-SONS: THE AVENGERS OF EVIL". Talk about an active imagination...

* * *

...

Ms. Tindol had just finished scribbling down her ninth rule on the green chalkboard. " _New... Concepts..._ " She mutters as she writes those exact same words in step night. Once she's finished, she faces back to the classroom and clasps her hands together towards her chest.

"Now, onto our final rule!" She smiles. "Before I say it... Does anyone have any idea what it might be?"

"Oh! Oh!" Says an eager Milhouse, who had just returned from his trip to the "bathroom". He would've stayed the whole class, but I guess the pressure of getting caught consumed him. "Is it... Draw what you like?"

"Nope. That was actually the first rule I said..." Tindol says.

"Oh..." Milhouse sighs with despondency.

"Class, our 10th rule actually isn't as complicated as you may think it is." She says. "Our final rule is something that probably wouldn't come as much of a shock to you all, and may seem rather expected at first, but trust me, it's vital for being an artist."

She turns back to the board, and writes out the number 10.

"Step 10..." She begins.

" _Just draw._ "

...

And that's exactly what Bart did, for the whole month.

* * *

It was unbelievable. Ever since he had met his teacher in September, he'd just been drawing throughout the entirety of October. Every day, there'd be a new drawing on Bart's wall. Before he knew it, his stink bombs were replaced with pastels, his firecrackers with paint brushes, and his itching powder with spraypaint... Lots and _lots_ of spraypaint...

In fact, Bart was _so_ preoccupied with his new hobby, he didn't seem to have as much time as he did to make trouble in the house, at school, or across the town. Though, that didn't stop him from pulling _one_ prank every once in a while.

...

We cut to Bart in his bedroom, drawing another one of his masterpieces. He begins to overhear some straining from outside, so he turns to look at his window.

Outside, he sees Homer under his car (which is being held up by a barely-surviving, flimsy plank of wood) trying to fix up some things on the bottom of the vehicle.

"Stupid car, always breaking at the worst times..." He mutters to himself.

Bart forms a devious smirk on his face and shrugs. "Ah, what the hell. Just for old times sake."

Bart opens his window and pulls out his wooden slingshot and a small copper BB. He holds the projectile back on the band, and lets go once it's at the perfect angle. The BB flies through the air at the speed of light, and hits directly at the wood holding up Homer's car, and shoots right through it, causing it to lose its hold on the car, which in turn causes the car to fall right on top of a now screaming Homer. Bart cackles mischievously. Despite this recent change of heart, Bart still seemed to be the little hellraiser we all knew and loved.

...

Bart also continued to show Ms. Tindol his art, and over the course of the month, they had formed a rather strong relationship, and Bart might even go as far as to call her a friend.

...

"Ms. T! Ms. T! Look what I drew yesterday!" He puts the drawing towards her face. "It's my dog, Santa's Little Helper!"

Ms. Tindol looks at the cute doodle and smiles pleasantly. "Very impressive, Bart. Keep up the good work."

"Wait, wait, wait! That's not all!" Bart says, now digging through his backpack for the rest. "I also drew our cat, Snowball, and my Unky Herb! I haven't seen the guy in a while, so I had to base it off a picture in our living room. I think it still looks pretty good, though."

"It looks great." Ms. T replies. "They _all_ do. I know I've said this an abundance of times, Bart, but... I admire your passion for art... And I know this passion will take you to incredible places."

"Well... I don't know about _that..._ " Bart modestly says, bashfully looking to the ground with a smile.

"Well, I do. With a persistent attitude like yours, you'll be able to achieve things considered unimaginable by other people." She scruffs up Bart's spiky hair, and walks back to her desk, leaving him quite happy.

...

Bart's new hobby didn't go unnoticed by his peers and especially by his family members. I mean, it was hard to ignore it when that was practically all he found himself doing.

...

Bart was seated at his desk, drawing in one of his few sketchbooks that weren't filled to the brim with doodles. His family stood in his open doorway, unnoticeable to Bart. They all just stared at him.

"Look at him! He's just been drawing the entire day!" Marge whisper shouts, holding Maggie in her arms. "I don't think I remember the last time I've seen any whoopee cushions planted around the house... Do you think this is all part of some kind of elaborate scheme?"

"Oh, I hope so..." Homer says, with a noticeably worried expression. "I never thought I'd say this, but I _need_ Bart to start some trouble! My only purpose as his father is to reprimand him for his wrongdoings, and if the boy isn't doing anything bad, I'm not doing my job as a father! Since the boy hasn't been pulling any stunts, I haven't strangled him in weeks! Oh, I can feel my hands withering up like a prune that's been left in a bathtub!"

That's when Grampa walks past the 4, and says, "Welcome to _my_ world! Get used to it!" Before walking off like nothing had happened.

"Honestly, I'm not all that surprised about Bart's recent behavioral changes." Lisa admits. "As of recently, he's been showing signs of maturing, and has gained a new passion for art."

"Well, let's hope it stays that way..." Marge states with slight relief.

Bart had just completed his piece, and holds it up towards his face happily. "Perfect! Just perfect!" He grins with pride, before laughing with glee. While there was no denying the family found Bart's new change of mind rather abrupt and strange, they couldn't help but feel happy for him.

Marge smiles. "Oh... How adorable... My special little guy is an artist!" She rejoices, holding her clasped hands to her cheek.

"A _Bartist!_ " Homer says. "Ha ha! Get it? Because he's Bart, and he's an artist, therefore creating the portmanteau, 'Bartist'!"

Marge does her usual croaky chuckle. "Yes, Homie, I get it..." She grins.

Lisa is still smiling at her brother. She then turns to her baby sister.

"You see that, Maggie? Bart's found his gift!" She says. Maggie stops sucking on her pacifier to happily babble and clap at this. It was nice to know Bart's family was so supportive of his newfound talent.

* * *

 ** _RING!_**

The bell had just rung in the art room, meaning the class had just come to a end.

"You're all dismissed!" Ms. Tindol announces to the students, who had already been making their way out before she had said that. Bart had just stepped out of his seat and was headed towards the door, before he stopped in his tracks, almost forgetting to do something. He turns back to face his teacher, now that all the other students had left.

"Hi, Ms. T." Bart says.

"Hello, Bart." Ms. Tindol smiles, always happy to see Bart staying back to talk to her. "Do you need something?"

"Well, no... I just wanted to tell you that- Oh my god, what's that thing outside your window?!" He yells.

Ms. Tindol, confused, looks back at her window, and sees nothing. It looked exactly the same. "What do you mean? I don't see a thing?" She turns back, expecting to see Bart, but he had just left, this being evident from the sound of the door abruptly shutting. This left Ms. Tindol even more perplexed.

"... Hm..." She mumbles with a raised eyebrow. However, she just shrugs this off and looks back at her desk, except the first thing she sees isn't her sketchbook, but a canvas... A very familiar canvas.

It was Bart's very first painting, and yes, it was now shaded, like his Ms. Tindol had advised. Of course, Bart's window excuse was merely a diversion to keep her busy while he took it out of his bag, placed it on her desk, and ran for the hills.

Ms. Tindol lifts it up so it's now right in front of her face. Without a single word, she smiles, and even if she didn't exactly show it, glee was practically seeping out of her.

" _My star student..._ " She mumbles to herself.


	5. Lost Girl

Disclaimer - The rights to _The Simpsons_ and its characters belong to Matt Groening, the Fox Broadcasting Company, and any others associated with the show. No profit is being made from this fanfiction, this is all just for fun :)

 _ **And this, my friends, is the part in the fanfiction where things start to take a turn... (also, just in case you were wondering: This chapter takes place sometime in November.)**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 5 - Lost Girl**_

"Bart, slow down! Your breakfast isn't going anywhere!" Marge scolds Bart, who is practically dumping his bowl of cereal into his mouth.

"Wait, food can go places?" Homer asks. "Now it all makes sense! No wonder we couldn't find our Thanksgiving turkey last year! It sprouted legs and walked away!"

"No, Homer. You just ate it in your sleep..." Marge sighs.

It was currently morning at the Simpsons household, and Lisa and Bart were about to leave for school. The 2 were seated at their dining table, along with Maggie, who sat on her high chair, and Homer, who was wearing his work tie. Marge stood at the stove, preparing a meal for later. As per mentioned, Bart was hurriedly devouring his food, greatly agitating Lisa.

"Yuck! _Mooom!_ " Lisa whines. "Bart's milk keeps splashing on me!"

"Bart, I told you to slow down!" Marge says, turning back around to face Bart.

Bart puts his bowl down. "But I need to get to school!"

"The bus doesn't come for another 15 minutes!" Marge says. "You don't have to worry about being late."

"It's not _that,_ Mom. I just have art today, and the sooner I finish, the sooner I can get back to painting." He smiles.

Marge also smiles. "Well... That's nice to know..." She quickly changes back to her stern persona. "But that doesn't mean you can eat like a dog!"

Bart murmurs with dismay as he sets the bowl down and eats in a more civil manner.

"You too, Homer!" Marge says to Homer, who was _literally_ eating like a dog, using his tongue to lick up the milk in his bowl.

Homer frowns. "But Santa's Little Helper gets to!" He grouses, pointing over to their pet dog, who was drinking water in his bowl.

"Because Santa's Little Helper _is_ a dog, Homer."

"Can't I just have this, Marge?"

Marge sighs. "Fine... But only for today! Tomorrow, you're eating like a civilized human being!"

Homer smirks. "Heh... That's what _she_ thinks..." He mutters under his breath.

* * *

We fast forward to the kids at school. Bart and Lisa had parted ways to their respective classrooms. Once Bart reached Edna's door, he saw the same "4TH GRADE REPORT TO ART CLASS" note he usually did, but in stead of displaying vexation, Bart grinned as he made his detour to the art room.

Once he reached the door, he throws it open with glee.

"Ms. Tindol, do I have something to show you-". He stops in the middle of his sentence once he realizes Ms. Tindol isn't actually _at_ her desk. In fact, she didn't seem to be anywhere in the room. Confused, Bart scratches his head.

"Hm." He murmurs. He then turns to face the clock, which read 7:58 AM, meaning school was officially starting in no more than 2 minutes. "She should be here by now..." Bart quickly replaces his unsure frown to a more hopeful simper. "Ah, maybe she's just running a little late."

Bart walks past the several desks of boisterous students to get to his seat. On his way, he happened to pass right by Nelson's desk. (just his luck...)

"Hey, lover boy!" Nelson blurts with a smirk. A few students around him begin snickering. Bart chooses to ignore these remarks and continues walking to his seat.

"Hey... I made fun of him and he paid no heed to it! What gives?!" Nelson says with apparent shock. Thinking fast, Nelson grabs his pencil case and chucks it straight for the back of Bart's head. Still, no response to Nelson's stimulus. Nelson gasps in disbelief. "If I can't make other people's lives miserable, what other purpose do I have in life?!" He abruptly breaks down into tears on his desk.

Bart finally reaches his seat, which was right next to his pal, Milhouse.

"Hey, Bart!" Milhouse greets with his nasally voice. Bart takes his seat.

"Hey, Milhouse." Bart responds. "... You wouldn't happen to have seen Ms. T today?"

"Ms. T? Who's Ms. T?" Milhouse asks. He then gasps. "Is she Mr. T's wife?"

Bart remember that he isn't directly talking to her. "Ms. Tindol, I mean."

"Ohhh!" Milhouse responds. "Well, I haven't seen her... But hey! That gives us more time to act like rebels!" He begins talking in a whisper. "Don't tell anybody... But before you came, I snuck into her desk and used up the ink in _all_ her pens! Pretty sick, huh?"

Bart glares at him with an uninterested expression, not impressed with Milhouse's "scheme".

"... Well, ok, I only used up _half_ of them..."

Bart still doesn't change his expression.

"... 4, I did _4_ of them."

"..." Bart raises an eyebrow with skepticism.

"..." Milhouse sighs. "I didn't do any of them..." He says defeated. "But I _did_ take one of 'em for myself!" He then pulls out a green ballpoint pen. "It's green, so you know it's rare!"

Bart rolls his eyes a bit. "Meh... Well, I hope she gets here soon. I have so many new drawings to show her!"

"I didn't know you drew, Bart." Milhouse admits. Bart takes out his sketchbook.

"Yeah. See?" Bart shows him a few pages. "This one's gotta be one of my favorites!" He points to one drawing.

Milhouse squints his eyes a bit. "'Four-Eyed Loser'?" He reads the title. "Hey! That looks like _me!_ ". The drawing certainly did depict a character who shared a striking resemblance to the boy.

"You said it, not me." Bart claims to a rather angry Milhouse.

Just then, the first period bell rings, meaning class had begun. The only problem was: There still wasn't a teacher in sight. The class of 4th graders begin murmuring to each other in confusion.

"The bell just rang!" The long-haired student with the brown hair says, clad in her sleeveless blue turtleneck and violet shorts.

"But the teacher isn't here!" Nina adds.

Martin gasps, clutching onto his face in agony. "No _teacher?!_ Th-This can't be possible! How will we, as desultory adolescents, progress in our educational lives without proper adult supervision?! We have no future!" He bawls.

"What do you think happened to her?" Lewis asks Richard.

"Maybe she got her head stuck in a wood chipper and died!" Richard hypothesizes.

"I bet she hit her stomach on a table and choked on her own liver!" The blonde, buck-toothed student says.

"Mmyah! Impossible!" Database says in his erratic voice. "If her stomach were to come in contact with such an object, her pancreas would escape her before her liver could even get halfway through her esophagus!"

Wendell, who was sitting nearby, could already feel his stomach twisting from such a discussion.

"Guys! Don't you see?" Milhouse exclaims, standing up on his chair for dramatic effect. "The teacher's gone, we're by ourselves, and we're in a room full of toxic materials! It's every 10 year old's dream! Let's take advantage of it!"

Everyone seemed to be on board with this idea. Well, except Martin, who was still "mourning the loss" of the teacher, and Bart, who wasn't as enthusiastic to hear this idea as you'd expect.

" _ **Yeah!**_ " The class cheers, and almost immediately they all dash out of their seats to cause whatever mayhem they can, using the plentiful materials they had.

Paint was thrown, glue guns were shot, rolls of construction paper were tossed, leaving trails everywhere. Mobile drying racks were ridden, scissors were ran with, paint brushes were snapped. It was pure chaos, and all Bart could do was watch in silence.

... And yet, despite this enthusiasm, it only took about 30 seconds for the whole class to stop in their places. No one made a sound for a few more seconds.

"... Hm. That got boring really quickly..." One student comments. A few others nod in agreement.

"Ah, misbehaving ain't fun when there isn't an adult scolding you not to!" Milhouse grumps, returning to his seat. The other students follow suit and take their seats too.

"Well, what else should we do?" Milhouse asks the class. They shrug.

"We should all ditch and go home!" Lewis says.

"But what if we get caught?" Adrian asks, which just about gets Lewis to keep his mouth shut.

The students think for a few more seconds, but no ideas came to mind. Not to mention, the few they _did_ come up with would either land them in detention of juvenile hall.

"I think someone should just go and _find_ the teacher." Richard says. "Not like we have any other ideas."

He made a good point, and the class seemed to concur with the suggestion.

"So, who's gonna do it?" Nina asks.

Almost immediately, Bart exclaims, "I'll do it!". He exits his seat and begins walking towards the door.

Sherri and Terri smile at Bart as he walks.

"Of course, Bart would go!" Sherri smirks.

"He's probably gonna try to give her a kiss when he finds her!" Terri jeers. She proceeds to make "kissy-noises", whilst clasping her hands towards her head. The two girls giggle, while Bart rolls his eyes with disdain. By then, he had reached the room's door and exited the classroom. Bart now stood in the vacant hallways of Springfield Elementary.

First, he tried the obvious:

"Ms. Tindol?" Bart calls out, his hands bordering his mouth to produce more volume. "Ms. Tindol?" He repeats. Still, he does not receive a response.

"Hmm.. If I were an unusually cool teacher, where would I be..." He ponders, walking through the halls. Each door he passed was another class room, which she _obviously_ wasn't going to be in. He comes across a door which read "TEACHER'S LOUNGE".

"The teacher's lounge?" Bart reads. "Hm... I've always wondered what exciting things went on in there!"

Being of very minimal stature, Bart had to jump up and hold onto the bottom of the door's rectangular window to get a good look. When he peered in he saw...

Edna and Elizabeth, sitting in front of each other, smoking. What else was new?

"Hm." Disappointed, Bart lets go off the door and continues his search.

"... Is he gone yet?" Edna asks.

"Mmhm." Hoover smirks. "I'll get the foam machine, and you can get the strobe lights. I'll call the others in a second. What should we have this time, hotdog stuffed pizzas or pizza stuffed hotdogs?"

"Who says we can't have both?" Edna grins.

Bart continues searching for another place to- well, search.

"Ms. Tindooool? It's Baaaart!" Bart says, holding out the end of the last word of each sentence. "If that doesn't make you come out, I don't know what wiiiill!"

He goes deeper into the halls, and spots the janitor closet.

" _Hm, maybe she's in here..._ " He thinks to himself. Bart reaches up for the nob and twists it open. Rather that seeing his teacher, however, he sees Groundskeeper Willie... Making out with a _mop._

"Mmmm... Oh, Shaundra..." Willie moans. "Ya taste just like mum's haggis..."

"..." Bart stares blankly without a word. However, it doesn't take Willie very long to notice Bart in his peripheral vision.

He drops the mop, now wearing a mortified expression. "E-Ey! What the 'ell are you doin' here lad?!" He booms.

"Uh... I-"

Before Bart can even get his reply out, Willie expeditiously pulls out his rake and holds it dangerously close to Bart's face.

"Now leave, and maybe I won't poke ya into Hogmanay!" He threatens. It doesn't take Bart very long to get the hint and book out of there. He runs away, panting.

"Ah!" He shrieks, exiting the opened janitor's closet.

"Ah, ya could've at least closed the door, lad!" Willie gripes.

As Bart slowly began to feel himself tiring out from all the running, he decelerates and holds onto his knees as he catches his breath.

"Alright... So she wasn't in _there._ " Bart states through pants. He notices he's standing in front of another door, one he has never really taken time to notice. The door didn't have any label on it.

Bart twists the knob, hoping to actually find some useful information. Unfortunately, this was not the case, as he was greeted with the sight of Otto Mann, who was sat, hunched over on a wooden crate. In front of him were piles of a white, powdery substance, which he was sniffing with glee. If it wasn't evident at this point, Otto was doing coke.

He inhales fervently, and lets out a satisfied sigh afterwards. "Ah... Yeah..." He sighs. Bart gasps.

Otto hears this, and sees Bart. He nearly falls off his crate.

"Woah! B-Bart-dude!" He exclaims with panic and shock. "U-Uh... If anyone asks, I was doing _heroin_ , ok?!" Bart quickly shuts the door without a word.

"... Jeez... There's more going on in this school than I thought..." He mumbles. Bart resumes his journey, but for some reason, no matter where he went, he had no luck.

First, there was the school nurse...

Bart abruptly throws open the nurse's office's door, where the school nurse was giving a vaccination to a male student.

"Ms. Tindol?" He calls out before exiting almost immediately. This sudden exclamation of course catches the nurse off guard, causing her to (unintentionally) violently stab the needle into the wrong area on the student's arm, which in turn causes him to yelp in excruciating pain.

Then, there was the school gymnasium...

Bart pushes open the gym's metal crash bar and enters.

"Ms. Tindo-" Before he can even finish, he is hit right in the stomach with a dodgeball. "Oof!" He grunts, clutching onto his stomach.

"Alright! Lucky hit!" Dolph rejoices with his hands in the air, who threw the ball, lacking the intention of it hitting Bart.

Then, the school library...

Bart opens the doors to the school library, where various students were quietly reading.

"Ms. Tindol?!" He blurts. This, of course, upsets many people, who shush him harshly.

"Shhh! Young man, this is a _library!_ " A female librarian who was shelving books near Bart scolds.

"Ah, shush yourself, old coot..." Bart mutters to the librarian before heading out, who gasps in shock at Bart's disrespect.

From there, Bart just about went to any other place he could. The cafeteria, the school boiler room, the playground, even a few "other" places that truly proved Bart's ambition to find her.

"Ms. Tindol?!" Bart shouts... In the girl's restroom. Of course, this isn't taken very lightly by its current residents.

"AIEEE!" One girl, who didn't look much older than Bart, shrieks.

"It's a boy!" Another one with pigtails says, pointing at Bart.

"Get him!" A third one exclaims. Before he knew it, Bart was pounced on by all 3 and attack from all angles.

"Ah! Oof! Ahh! Heeeelp!" He whines, pinned to the ground. After some more hits on the head, ankles, ribs, and "other places", Bart had finally escaped the girls' clutches and ran straight out.

"And stay out, pervert!" One yells as he departs.

Hunched over, Bart breathes heavily, trying to catch his breath. It had nearly been half an hour, and he _still_ couldn't seem to find her. Bart sighs with hopelessness and performs the "walk of shame" back to class.

* * *

Bart was still heading back to his class, his head hanging low and his hands in his pockets. With each step, he neared the art room. He was just a few meters away before he overheard a very, very familiar voice in the distance.

"Hello?"

Bart knew that voice. He turned around, but saw no one, however.

"Huh?" Bart mutters, confused. "I... I could've sworn I just heard-"

"Yes, this is Principal Skinner, how are you?"

There it was again, and there was no denying it this time. He noticed it was coming from Skinner's office, which wasn't very far away. He speedwalks towards it but doesn't enter, but in stead peeks through the office's window, only to see Seymour (whose back is turned) on the school's phone with someone.

"Mmhm... Mmhm." He says, curling the phone wire with his finger. Bart stares blankly.

"Yes, well that's good to hear." Skinner continues, now turning around to face the window absentmindedly. Bart thinks fast and quickly ducks behind the wall, clutching his back onto it. " _That was close..._ " He thought.

"Mmm... I see..." Skinner continues. He's quiet for some seconds to allow the person on the other line to respond. "... You aren't here? Hm, I didn't notice! ... Was that rude? Heh... My apologies.." He sheepishly grins.

"What the hell is going on in there, and who is he talking to?" Bart whispers to himself.

"Well, what might be the reason for this?" Skinner says. He's quiet for some more seconds, and after about a good 30 or 40 seconds his eyes grow to immense levels and his jaw drops a bit. "Oh my! Really?! Well, th-that's great to hear! Congratulations!" He smiles. "I understand this may be a very challenging time, and I definitely understand... No, no! Take your time! Take months, maybe even years! ... Wait, now that makes it sound ill-mannered... Forget what I said! Don't take months! ... Well now I just sound clingy! Do I sound clingy?!" The line cuts, signaling the other person had hung up, possibly due to Skinner's excessive awkwardness. "... Hello?" He mumbles.

Skinner puts the phone down. "Well, I guess I should go and tell Krabappel's class." He begins approaching the door. His loud footsteps weren't hard to miss, and Bart knew it was time to make a run for it.

"Eep!" Bart squeaks, quickly dashing through the hall to get back to Ms. Tindol's room. Skinner wasn't too far behind him, and he didn't seem to notice Bart either. After a few more steps, Bart had made it back to the room and leaps straight into his seat, head first, panting for about the hundredth time that day.

"Woah, Bart, are you ok?" Milhouse asks.

"What happened? Did you find her?" Lewis adds. Before Bart can make out an answer, Skinner enters the classroom.

"Hello, stude- What in the name of Sam Hill?!" Skinner blurts the second he gets a look at the disaster of a classroom they had created. "What the heck happened in here?! It looks like a tornado swept right through here!"

"Uhh.. A tornado _has_ swept through!" Bart lies.

"Nice try, Simpson! You must think I'm stupid! Well I'm not falling for it!" Skinner claims. "Why, the only plausible explanation for this would be a group of young miscreants! ... Or a _single_ miscreant."

"Well.. Uh.. It _was_ a single miscreant!" Bart says. "Milhouse!" He points to Milhouse, and the whole class nods in agreement.

"What?! I-It wasn't me!" Milhouse says.

"So you're telling me you didn't contribute to this, Van Houten? At _all?_ " Skinner asks, getting closer to the boy.

"... Well, I _did_ , but-"

"Just what I had thought. Detention after school!" Skinner declares, to a now disappointed Milhouse. "You'll be cleaning this place from top to bottom!"

"You can't give me detention! My mom says if I have a clean record this whole quarter I can get a new Nintendo game!" Milhouse pleads.

"Well, maybe you should've thought of that before you defaced school property!" Skinner says. "You can kiss your 'Gametendo' goodbye!"

"Ohh.." Milhouse sighs, looking down at his desk.

"Now that _that's_ settled, let me explain why I'm here." Skinner makes his way back to the front of the classroom and clears his throat. "Class, I have some news, fantastic news!" The class brightens up, but before they can make any guesses, Skinner interrupts.

"No, school won't be canceled and we won't be replacing the teachers with robots." Skinner laughs, recalling back to what they had said before his other "big surprise". "This surprise isn't like those things at all, this is a very 'special' surprise that can only be appreciated by people who genuinely care. A surprise that comes very rarely in a person's life, and will forever be cherished by said person."

The class was already losing interest at Skinner's tedious little monologue.

"A surprise that may truly bring a tear to one's eye, in fact. A surprise that-"

"Hey, Seymour! Mind doing us a favor and shutting up?" Bart blurts. "We don't care about your stupid 'surprise', we just wanna know where Ms. Tindol is!"

Skinner, who would've usually been angry at Bart's inappropriate interruption, rather smiles even more. "Believe it or not, Bart, this _is_ about your teacher!" This got Bart's attention, and he began listening closer.

"You see, class, your teacher is going through a very... 'experimental' stage in her life, and as her students, you all need to support these changes." He explains. "I could go into detail, but I'm fairly certain you all wouldn't be interested in hearing that, so... How about I just cut to the chase?"

Yes, please. This is what every one had been waiting for. The solid, one-and-done sentence to just end this whole thing.

Skinner's smile dies down a bit, still smiling, just not as obnoxious and enthusiastically as before. He clasps his hands together to his chest.

"Children... Ms. Tindol is having a baby."


	6. Eating for Two

Disclaimer - The rights to _The Simpsons_ and its characters belong to Matt Groening, the Fox Broadcasting Company, and any others associated with the show. No profit is being made from this fanfiction, this is all just for fun :)

 _ **(Also... I'm sorry to say this guys, but this**_ _ **looks like the point where my schedule is gonna get cut up... As I said, it's been very hard to access a computer/ phone to write this on as of recently, and I'm doing the very best I can. Please bear with me. While I do find some time to write on weekdays, I find myself writing exceptionally quicker on weekends. If I can at least manage to churn out 2 every week (not a guarantee, but it looks like it's come to that) I can hopefully finish in mid-November. Thank you guys for sticking around, and enjoy this chapter. And please try to excuse any spelling/grammatical errors this time around. I've proofread it, but I still have this aching feeling that I've missed a few things. I'd re-read it again, but at the time of finishing this chapter, it is 2 AM, and I'm really trying to get some sleep.)**_

* * *

 **Chapter 6 - Eating For Two**

 _"Children... Ms. Tindol is having a baby."_

Once those words sunk in, the class fell silent.

They couldn't have possibly heard him right... No one made a peep, and some faces began to get pale. Every student's jaw drops open, letting silent gasps escape from each of their mouths. Milhouse was the first to speak up.

"She's having... A baby...?" He asks with shock.

Skinner nods. "Correct. Ms. Tindol is currently pregnant and carrying a child." He announces. "I knew you'd all be fairly surprised."

No one knew what to say. They had only known this woman for about a month, yet such news was fairly shocking to them, _especially_ Bart.

No question, Bart was the most surprised to hear this. His eyes grew to the size of saucers and his pupils shrunk to the size of atoms. His mouth was gaped wide open and he could feel himself shaking slightly, as all the color drained from his face. Ms. Tindol... Pregnant?! He had so much to say, so many questions to ask. And yet, he was physically unable to make a sound.

"Because of this, Ms. Tindol is now on maternity leave and won't be teaching the class for a while." Skinner says. He now forms a more sympathetic expression, and holds his hands in front of him. "Now class... I understand you all are immensely saddened, but you have to realize that-"

Of course, this was clearly false, as the entire classroom (sans Martin and Bart) began to rejoice. Each girl and boy, but despite this shared enthusiasm, both genders had very different reasons for celebrating.

The girls of the class seemed to be interested in the pregnancy itself.

"Ooh! I can't believe Ms. Tindol's having a baby!" Sophie Jensen marvels, tugging at her burnt sienna pigtails.

"I know, right? it's gonna be _sooo_ cute!" The blue haired girl with glasses squeals.

"Is it a boy?" The red headed buck toothed girl questions.

"Is it a girl?" Nina asks.

"Are they twins?" Sherri and Terri inquire simultaneously.

"What's its name?" The long, brown-haired girl interrogates.

"Who's the daddy?" The smug girl, with the bushy, mahogany hair, asks.

"My apologies, girls, but I don't know the answer to any of those questions." Skinner chuckles. "But... I'll leave that to your imaginations."

"Oh! Oh! I hope it's a girl!" Nina smiles.

"With a cute, little buck tooth!" The buck-toothed girl adds.

"She should name it Julie!" Sophie suggests.

"I think she should name it Marcia if it's a girl and Matt if it's a boy!" The glasses girl says.

"No! No! She should name her Nancy if it's a girl!" The long haired girl says. "And maybe.. Harry, if it's a boy!"

"Oh! Yeah, I like that better!" The glasses girl replies.

The girls continue talking among themselves about the bun in the oven. Heck, _they_ might as well have been the one's having the baby, as they seemed much more interested in it than they presumed Ms. Tindol was.

As per mentioned, the boys were also very excited. Just for a much different reason.

"Woo hoo! I can't believe it!" Lewis rejoices. "She's having a baby!"

"Yeah! That means we won't have art for the rest of the year!" Nelson cheers. The rest of the boys' chants only heighten in volume.

"Oh, you'll have art." Skinner corrects.

After hearing this, the boys abruptly cut their celebration and sigh in defeat, losing their only reason to be enthusiastic about this.

Martin _finally_ speaks up. "B-But... Who will teach our class if Ms. Tindol's gone?!" He asks uneasily.

"Well, Mr. Prince, until we find yet, another replacement art teacher, _I'll_ be taking the reins as art instructor." Skinner remarks, straightening up his tie with pride. Oh _joy..._

"Really?" Martin says, gradually calming down. "Well... It's nice to finally have a formidable sense of authority teaching art! Between you and me, Ms. Tindol wasn't the best at taking charge in the classroom..."

"Pfft! You're just sayin' that because you weren't her favorite!" Nelson claims. Martin didn't appear to have an argument for his affirmation, and kept quiet.

"Class, class, settle down." Skinner says, getting the class to be quiet. "Thank you. If I may continue with what I was saying, I understand this may be hard on some of you, but you have to realize that this is an important part of a woman's life. Giving life to another human is just about anyone's dream, and such a miracle shouldn't go overlooked, _especially_ by her students. The least you could all do is be happy for her and let her know you care. Make her a card, send her a letter! Or an 'e-mail', like all the kids are doing today, right?" He churns out an awkward smile as he waits for someone, _anyone_ to concur.

 _ **(A/N: Just to clarify so I don't offend anyone, when I wrote that being pregnant "is an important part of a woman's life", I'm not trying to say that every woman's main purpose is to bear a child, but I had no better way to phrase it. Just wanted to make that clear. Keep reading.)**_

"Babies are just a waste of time!" Nelson blurts. "All they do is whine, poop, sleep, and spit up on themselves, like little senior citizens in diapers. Why go through pain just to have more pain afterwards?"

"You'll understand when you have a child of your own, Mr. Muntz." Skinner grins.

Nelson rolls his eyes. "Like that's gonna happen!"

"Oh, just you wait, Nelson. In 20 years time, you and your wife will be happy parents!"

Nelson flushes, and feels his tummy twisting. The classroom erupts into laughter, as they point and mock Nelson.

"Nelson's gettin' married! Nelson's gettin' married!" They all sing. All of them except Bart. It doesn't take Skinner very long to notice Bart's strange silence.

"Bart, you're not teasing Nelson... Is something the matter?" He asks. "In fact, I don't think I've heard you say a word since I told you all the news."

Bart's apparent paleness was very hard to miss. He looked (and felt) as if he was about to lose consciousness right there. Bart gulps, and _finally_ makes a sound.

"M-Ms. Tindol's... Pregnant...?" He stammers, biting his lip apprehensively.

Skinner raises his eyebrow. "Yes... I thought I had made that fairly clear?"

It was true, he had. But Bart had trouble taking this in.

"She's pregnant..." He mutters. "Does... Does that mean she's never coming back?"

"Well, not 100%. She could come back any day now." Skinner states. This brought a sprinkle of hopelessness to the tense Bart. "But that's very, very unlikely." Aaaaand it's gone.

Bart gulps a second time. " _Ay caramba..._ " He mumbles, looking down at his lap. " _Don't worry, Bart. Don't you worry. This is just another one of your bad dreams, you've probably fallen asleep in class again! ... But... I'd never fall asleep in **art** class..._"

Skinner, feeling as if he's said enough, peers over to the clock, only to see that class was ending in about half an hour.

"Now children, next period is nearly starting, so let's not waste anymore time, shall we?" Skinner says. He walks over to the main desk cabinet and pulls out the ever-since abandoned lesson plans that were already collecting dust. Skinner blows the powdered grime off and coughs forcefully.

"My _goodness!_ These lesson plans haven't been touched in ages!" Skinner remarks. "What have you kids been doing all month?!"

No one replies.

"Hmph... Well, _whatever_ you've been doing, we're putting that to a stop! Why have lesson plans if no one's going to take the initiative and follow them?" Skinner asks. "Well, we're going back to the books! Hmm... Let's see what ol' Barbash left here..." He skims through the booklet and stops at the "November" page. Seymour mumbles as he scans through the plans, looking for a possible activity.

"Hmm.. Ah-ha!" He grins, spotting one. "This seems nice! 'Hand Turkeys'!" He reads it off. "Seems like a perfect activity, what with the month we're currently in. Doesn't that sound fun, children?"

The class doesn't react. While this evident lack of interest was to be expected from the majority of the students, it wasn't for Bart. Every class, he'd look forward to what new project they'd have, but such an idea like "hand turkeys" sounded exceptionally bland.

Skinner is silent for a few moments, still waiting for a response. "... Come on, I assure you all you'll love it! It's quite simple." He takes the first sheet of paper he spots on Ms. Tindol's somewhat clustered desk. He holds it up towards the chalkboard and presses his hand in the middle of it, keeping it up. He uses his other free hand to reach for a marker on the same desk. He opens the cap and places the marker felt right by his pressed hand.

"First, we start at the wrist." Skinner instructs. "Then, you keep going _around_ and _around veeery_ carefully! You can't risk making a single mistake."

Skinner, being a huge perfectionist, seemed to be very particular with his craft. Watching him trace around his hands almost felt like waiting at the DMV. (But even at the DMV, you could keep yourself busy with something else) Each finger took a decade, and after all 40 years were complete, he removes his hand to show the class of unamused 4th graders his immaculate replication on paper.

"Then, you can draw and color on it to make it your very own!" Skinner smiles. He begins drawing out feathers on his turkey.

"Wow! Isn't _that_ fascinating?" Skinner grins. "So fun, yet so straightforward! How could a kid _not_ love it? Heh heh..." He continues holding out his forced grin, but unsurprisingly, no one says or does anything. They maintain their lukewarm expressions.

Skinner finally gives up. "..." He sighs. "Just take some paper and get to work.."

And with that, Principal Skinner takes a seat in Ms. Tindol's desk while the students proceed to approach the supply table, where construction paper, markers, crayons, glitter, googly eyes, and various other crafting materials sat. It seemed like everyone was in a hurry to get the best supplies, all but Bart, who still sat at his desk with quite possibly the most muzzy expressions one could muster.

It took him a while to return to the real world, for he was trapped in his own subconscious the entire time. He felt completely fixed in place, unable to do or say anything from this point. However, after taking about a minute to collect all his thoughts, he sighs, and makes an effort to leave his desk.

He was gradually returning to his normal self as he made his way to the table. He felt much more compos mentis and mindful of his surroundings. Yet, despite this, he still couldn't itch out that feeling of pure shock. However, he could feel his disbelief slowly morphing into anger... Or sadness... It was hard to tell.

He's less than 5 ft from the supply table when he stops in place to stare at it. Seeing as just about the whole class had their share of something on the table, it was practically empty, with only 4 or 5 loose sheets of construction paper still there and nearly all the markers and decorations were gone. Bart wasn't too disappointed by this, since he never had much enthusiasm about doing this in the first place. He hesitates to take another step closer, and eventually just turns around and approaches his seat empty-handed.

" _I've got better things to do..._ " Bart mutters in his head.

He takes his seat and reaches into his desk's book box. He pulls out a piece of paper and his red marker. Instantaneously, he begins speedily drawing another one of his crude doodles. But he can't even keep his full attention on that as his mind was going 5 different places at once.

" _Ok, let's recap. So Ms. Tindol is pregnant, is possibly never coming back, and now your favorite teacher's been replaced with your least favorite principal... It... Just doesn't sound right when I put it into words..._ " He looks back at his paper, and his perplexed expression soon becomes that of a raging bull's. " _I just wanna tear my hair out in frustration and break everything around me!_ " Gradually, his face becomes much more sad and sympathetic. " _But at the same time... I wanna cry into my pillow and never show my face again..._ "

Since everyone looked to be situated at this point, Skinner decides to check up on every student to see how they were doing. He gets up and begins walking down the rows of desks.

"Hm... Looks good... Looks good.." He nods and murmurs as he checks each desk. Once he reaches Milhouse, he stops and squints.

"Mr. Van Houten, what's that?" He questions.

"It's my turkey!" Milhouse smiles, holding the picture up towards him. "Do you like it?"

"Why is it red? I've never seen a red turkey in my entire life." Skinner states. The turkey was indeed colored red.

"Oh... Well, I like the color red..." Milhouse says.

Skinner moves his face closer to it, squinting even harder.

"Hmmmm... Start over!" Skinner insists, and continues walking. Milhouse sighs dejectedly.

During Skinner's stroll, it didn't take him too long to near Bart.

Bart was still hard at work on his drawing. " _It just isn't right. To think one of the last things I said to her was a lie... Sure, it had good intentions, but I wish I picked my words more carefully._ "

 ** _(A/N: In case you don't know what he means by "lie", he's referring to the end of Ch. 4. Though, looking back, I think "diversion" would've been a better word than lie.)_**

" _I-I just don't understand... The least she could've done was say g-_ "

"Bart Simpson!"

Bart immediately snaps out of his thoughts the second he hears this austere tone of voice. He looks up quickly and gasps once he sees Skinner's menacing glare looking down at him.

"Simpson, are you working on your project like the other children?" Skinner queries, his hands folded behind his back.

"... Uh.." Bart tugs at his collar.

He arches his brow. "Why don't I see any supplies on your desk?"

Bart doesn't respond.

Skinner bends his upper body down and scans his desk with precision. "Hm.." He squints. "What's this?" Skinner snatches Bart's drawing. Bart doesn't make any attempt to stop him.

Skinner scrupulously scrutinizes the drawing for a few seconds. Bart anxiously waits for a reaction. Abruptly, Skinner's eyes grow with shock at the picture. He scoffs with disdain.

"What the..." He mumbles. "'Skinner the idiot'?!" Sure enough, the drawing showed a crassly drawn Skinner with the caption: "SKINNER THE IDIOT". Of course, this was to be expected from Bart. "Young man, if I didn't know better, I'd say this is a crudely cartoonish depiction of me! Well I won't be taking this nonsense anymore!"

He carelessly stuffs the drawing in his pocket. Bart could barely bring himself to rebel against him.

"I hope you don't think just because Ms. Tindol isn't here, you can misbehave like this..." Skinner says. Little did _he_ know, he'd been doing the same thing when she was here. "And to think I thought you had changed your ways, Simpson!"

"But-"

"No, buts!" Skinner barks. " _This_ is staying with me..." He pats at the pocket holding the now crumbled drawing. "And I'll see _you_ at detention today after school!"

Bart sinks in his desk with a worried expression. "Y-Yes, sir..." He whimpers.

Skinner gives him one more threatening glare before marching back to his desk. "... Hm... It's been a while since I've heard myself say that." He mumbles.

Bart felt completely and utterly impotent, as if all his wits had been drained out of him. He looks down in his seat and sighs with defeat. Looks like he was back to square one.

* * *

 _ **6 Hours Later...**_

The last bell of the day had rung, meaning it was time for all the students to depart school and return home... Well, _almost_ all of the students.

Skinner currently sat in his office, filling out several documents as he quietly hummed to himself. Seymour was known for being a _very_ unflagging man, giving him no time to take breaks in between lines or fiddle with his retractable pen. He just kept writing and writing like a machine. Oddly, such a thing brought him joy.

"Mmmm... _Serenity._ " He mumbles, smirking at the corner of his mouth. "No orders from Chalmers, no nagging from Mother, just peaceful, undisturbed work..."

Nothing could ruin this moment. At least, that's what was initially thought, for Skinner had a little "visitor" making his way towards his office...

Having a whole 6 hours to regain his composure, Bart felt much more like himself. His skin had returned to its normal hue, he no longer appeared as sickly as he did previously, but that didn't change the fact that his emotions were practically out of control.

Currently, he was on his way to Principal Skinner's office, his backpack strapped over his shoulders.

" _Jeez, when was the last time I've gotten detention?_ " He says in his head. " _Now that I think about it, I don't remember the last time I've written something a hundred times on the chalkboard either... I should've known that record wasn't going to last very long._ "

While it was a bit hard for Bart to admit this to himself, he almost missed having a clean record. Knowing that he wouldn't have to brace himself as he approached his house after school for Marge and Homer's aggressive nagging about his school conduct or educational performance was exhilarating to him. He could never forget the rush he had felt after receiving his first marking period report card:

...

 ** _One Week Prior..._**

Bart and the rest of the 4th graders are currently in Krabappel's homeroom class. Today was the fateful day... The day where the stakes were raised, the day where nails were bitten in anticipation, the day where all the students' signature forgery practice finally paid off... The day _reports_ went home.

Something Mrs. Krabappel seemed to enjoy doing was counting up the grades in front of the students and adding them to their report card as they watched. Hearing the students' teeth chitter and shake as Edna marked off letters with her red pen was practically music to her ears. Everyone sat uneasily in their seats as they waited to be called on by the teacher. At this time, she was going over Martin's report, as he was the first (and only) to volunteer to do his. (Shocker...)

"Hm... A+ in Math, A+ in History, A+ in Music..." Edna reads off from her reports as she writes down the corresponding grades. Martin watches pridefully with a big grin plastered on his chubby face.

" _Straight A's once again, Martin. What else is new?"_ He brags to himself.

"A+ in Science, A+ in Language Arts, aaaaand..." She holds out her "and", as she searches for his final grade. "Hm... Ah, there it is. A- in Art."

Martin's eyes nearly shoot out of his head. He gasps. "M-Mrs. Krabappel! I must've misheard you! Th-There's no way I-"

"If you heard 'A-', you heard me just fine, Mr. Prince." She assures him. Krabappel writes an "A" in the "Average" box. "Here you go, Martin." She hands him the paper.

Martin looks mortified as he stares at the report. He is only able to make out incoherent babbles as he returns to his seat, trembling. "B-Buh... B-B-But..." Just before he gets to his chair, he faints right next to the desk, letting out an exhausted sigh as he collapse. "Ohhh..."

"Haw haw!" Nelson cackles, pointing at Martin.

"Ok, who's next?" Mrs. Krabappel asks, now facing the class. As usual, no one makes a sound. She grimaces.

"Oh great, are we _really_ doing this again?" Krabappel groans. "Fine, have it your way... Eeeny meeny miney Bart!" She points to Bart. He gulps and reluctantly gets up from his seat to approach his instructor.

"Y-Yes?" He stammers worriedly.

She smirks. "Let's take a look at these _fantastic_ grades, shall we?" She teases, as she pulls up his record. Bart begins twiddling with his fingers out of habit, as he always found himself doing it when he was frightened.

Her eyes find their way to the top of the list, and she's far from surprised to see his first grade. "Mathematics: D..." She states monotonously. Bart winces.

She moves down the list. "History: F." She write an "F". Bart whimpers.

"Music: D." Krabappel states as she writes his grade. "Looks like Largo didn't appreciate your vulgar spoof of 'Welcome to the Jungle', hm?" She smugly grins. Bart looks at the ground with chagrin

"Science: B." She states. Bart gasps, delightfully surprised. "B?" He marvels.

"... Oh, my bad. That was just the other 'D' from Music on top of _this_ D. They were put so close together I thought it was a B! How silly! Science: D." She titters. Bart groans.

"Don't worry, Bart. This torture will be over soon enough." She remarks. "Language Arts... D!" She writes a red "D" in the box. There stood only one blank box left. "Mmm, Art. Let's see here..." She scans the report paper for the grade. It seemed to be taking her ages to find it, which only heightened the pressure. Bart crossed his fingers by his side, for it was all that could help him now.

"Hmm.. Now where is it?" Edna mumbles. Finally, she comes across it. "Ah, there it is!" She clears her throat, still wearing her devious smirk. "And finally, art-" She stops as she looks at the grade by the subject. She's silent for a few seconds, before gasping. "My _god!_ "

Bart gasps too, even though he has not seen the grade. "Eep! Is it that bad?!" He frets.

"I-I just don't believe it! I must be seeing double or something!" Krabappel quakes. She was beginning to look similar to Martin in his current state.

Bart was surprised. He had always thought he was doing well in art, but unfortunately that didn't seem to be the case. "J-Just spill it, Mrs. K! F? G? Q? Get it over with!"

Mrs. Krabappel gulps. "Art..." Bart braces himself, clenching his teeth and shutting his eyes as he awaits to be told the bad news. "... A+" Bart's eyes reopen and his mouth closes.

"A... A p-plus..?" He hesitates. He couldn't believe it, and had to see it with his own eyes. He marched straight up to the paper and looks at it himself. Sure enough, there was an "A+" written by "Art". Bart wipes his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things, and sure enough he wasn't. He had never received an A+ in _any_ of his classes. "Oh my god..."

"A+... 100%..." Mrs. Krabbapel recites this to herself to make sure she hasn't gone loony. "My goodness... Th-That averages up to a 70.2% A "C" average!"

While a C average would seem fairly substandard to most, it was like a dream to Bart. His first instinct was to celebrate.

"A C average! I have a C average!" He cheers as he snatches the report off his desk. "Woohoo! C average! I got a C average!" He rejoices as he skips back to his seat. He felt almost as merry as he did when he barely passed his test that saved him from being held back. Just wait till Homer and Marge get a load of _this._

 _ **(A/N: The part about Bart being held back is a reference to "Bart Gets an 'F'", if you did not catch it.)**_

...

Unfortunately, that was all history now. Without Tindol's guidance, Bart has returned to his degenerate ways.

Bart was just a few feet away from Skinner's office before he stopped.

"... Y'know... If I just skip, I doubt the guy'll even notice.." Bart mumbles. "I haven't been here in ages, anyways."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Skinner says, still in the office. Bart nearly jumps in surprise. How keen does one's senses have to be to hear a distant murmur outside of a room?

Bart recoils. "Mmmm.." He murmurs. Realizing he's already blown his cover, he decides to just go inside, but not without a key item. He drops his bookbag onto the floor and zips it open. Quickly, he pulls out his red hat and puts it on. " _I'm gonna need all of your luck today, buddy._ "

Bart takes a deep breathe in, and exhales. He enters the room.

As Bart walks in, Skinner keeps his eyes fixed on his work, almost as if he didn't notice Bart come in. (Which he certainly did) Bart stands in front of his desk for a while, impatiently waiting for his principal to pay heed to him.

Eventually, after jotting down a few more words, at last, Skinner speak. "Good afternoon, Bart." He clicks his pen so the ball goes back inside. He puts it on the desk and stacks his papers in an orderly fashion. He lays them back on the desk and finally looks down over his desk to face Bart. The second his eyes are fixed properly on the student however, his face forms a slight scowl.

"Young man, you're well aware we don't permit hats on school property." Skinner scolds. "Remove it at once."

"Why should I?" Bart shoots back.

"Because it's highly disrespectful. Not to mention you could be concealing a weapon." Skinner states.

Bart rolls his eyes. "Yeah, because I'm keeping an _assault rifle_ in here..." He murmurs.

"Just take it off and put it in your book bag, before _I_ take it off and put it in _my_ office. For **good.** " Skinner threatens.

Bart unwillingly removes his hat and shoves it back into his bag.

Skinner smirks a bit. "So, how does it feel to be back, son? It missed you."

"Who missed me?" Bart asks with a rude tone.

"Why, the detention room! It's been _so_ long." He remarks, still wearing a small smirk (which only infuriated Bart the more). "It didn't think it'd see you again, and frankly, so did I. But I guess you can only get your hopes up so high."

Bart, tired of hearing Skinner's speech, tries to change the subject. "I thought Milhouse got detention too. Where is he?"

"Milhouse is hard at work in the art room, cleaning the mess _he_ made." Skinner answers. Bart feels a tinge of guilt when he hears this. "But this isn't about Van Houten, it's about _you._ " He rests his head on his hands, as if they were carrying it like a small table. "Bart, what you did in class today was inordinately disrespectful, and as I said, I will _not_ be taking any of that in school. You may have been able to escape without punishment before, but this time, I want you to really see the error of your ways... Why don't you pull up a chair, right in front of my desk, hm?"

Bart points out the nearest chair and pulls it towards Skinner's desk in a disinclined manner. It was rare he actually found himself submitting to Skinner's overbearing wishes. He felt so feeble and helpless.

"Come on now, take a seat." Skinner directs. Bart sits down on the chair and looks straight at him, showing a mix of anger and trepidation in his facial feature. Skinner waits a few seconds for Bart to get situated, maintaining his stern and straight-laced expression.

Skinner speaks. "Now, I want you to sit here for the next two hours-"

Bart is about to speak up, before immediately being silence by Skinner. "Without a _word._ " He states. "Not a _single_ word, and if you make a sound, I just might extend it..."

Bart glowers. "Well, what if I need to use the bathroom? Huh?"

"That's fine-"

"What if I need to cough, huh? I'm not allowed to cough?"

"You can cough-"

"Or what if you ask me a question? Should I ignore you? What if I need a tissue? Should I just let my booger run down my face? Or what if-"

"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!" Skinner yells, a bit too loudly. Bart flinches in his seat. Of course, this catches a few other people in the building's attentions. Mainly, Chalmers.

"SKIN- ** _NEEEER!_** " Chalmers blares from his office. "Stop shouting!" He adds. (Completely unaware of how hypocritical his statement was.)

Skinner cools down a bit, shuts his eyes, and sighs. He reopens them to face Bart. "Just... Don't talk..." He mutters in a more soothed (but demanding) tone. "I want your lips shut the whole time, unless it's _completely_ necessary that you speak. I personally suggest you take this time to reflect on what you've done to get yourself here..." And with that, detention officially began.

* * *

The whole process was agonizing. (For Bart, of course. Skinner seemed to get a bit of a kick from seeing Bart in this state.) Not speaking for a whole 2 hours is pretty bad, but for a _10 year old?_ It was practically hellish.

Not to mention, Bart had nothing to entertain him. No games, no music, not even his sketchbook. He tried clicking his tongue, tapping the floor, kicking his feet, but he'd get reprimanded by Skinner 10 seconds in. He was completely and utterly restless, and did the only thing he could do at this point:

...

Bart yawns, as he felt himself tiring out. Realizing there was nothing _else_ he could do, Bart decides to at least make use of the silence and get some shut eye. He gradually lets his eyelids touch, but it doesn't take Skinner very long to see what he's up to.

"Keep those eyes open, young man! I didn't bring you here to sleep!" Skinner hisses. Bart instantaneously opens his eyes back up, and groans in defeat.

...

It only made it worse that Skinner was eyeing him down like a hawk the entire time. Or like an opponent, awaiting for Bart to make his next move. How little of a life did you have to have to make your main priority to put a 10 year old boy in his place?

The wait was harrowing, and time seemed to slow down.

...

Bart focused on the clock like his whole existence depended on it. Little did he know, this would only lengthen time.

Skinner quickly took notice of this, and didn't appreciate Bart's impatient attitude. Swiftly, he digs into his desk's drawer and finds an orange screwdriver. He then gets up and approaches the clock on the wall, confusing Bart immensely. Skinner placed the tool into one of the screws bordering the clock and twists it out. Now that it was loosened, Skinner grabs the clock and strains a bit as he tears it right off the wall. He grins.

"There." Skinner says. "That should get your eyes off that clock..." He returns to his seat, and Bart rolls his eyes with severe irritation.

...

Seconds felt like minutes and minutes felt like hours, but Bart pulled through. In fact, he managed to make it pretty far in without collapsing to death like he had initially thought would happen.

* * *

 ** _A Little Less Than 2 Hours Later..._**

Bart, having no knowledge of the time, continued to face down with a distraught expression. Skinner, who _did_ have knowledge of the time, was shocked that Bart was just a few minutes away from finishing detention without any complications, even a bit proud. Of course, it didn't take Bart too long to ruin this. After nearly 2 hours, he finally speaks.

"Are we done with this crap fest yet, or what?" Bart blurts. Almost instantaneously, Skinner responds.

"Young man, I thought I said no talking." He says in quite possibly the most stern tone of voice ever.

"That didn't answer my question." Bart shoots back, in a very similar "I mean business" tone.

Skinner's admiration for Bart's strong endurance had immediately vanished once hearing this.

"Bart... I hope you realize this is _exactly_ what got you here in the first place." Skinner states. "Your sickening amount of disrespect for your elders. You constantly do it, and we constantly scold you for it, but... You just don't seem to get it. You _never_ learn. And you know _why_ you never learn? Because we've never put our foot down. We've never _truly_ shown you where this will get you. But look where we are now..." He brings his head even closer to Bart's. "What if I told you this wasn't me at my worst?" He raises an eyebrow.

"What if I told you... I could do _so_ much more. But you wouldn't be able to stomach it. What would you say, Bart? Hm? I'm _waiting._ "

Bart grimaces. "I'd say, 'bite me'. That's what I'd say."

Skinner sits back in his seat, but keeps his hands folded on the desk. He simply glares at Bart without a word, but eventually speaks up. "... Hm. Well, there's just no getting to this one, huh? I long to see the day you truly learn the errors of your ways, Simpson. But seeing as such a day won't be coming for a while, I'll keep waiting." He begins looking through his desk drawer for something.

"For now, I'd like to focus on something else..." After some searching, he finally comes across what he was looking for, takes it out, and smooths it out on his desk. It was Bart's drawing of Skinner. "Look familiar?"

"No. I'd never recognize my own drawing." Bart replies.

Skinner chooses to ignore this sarcastic response. "You see this? _Completely_ unacceptable, especially in an educational environment. You must think this kind of stuff will make you popular, correct?"

"Pssh, no. It's just funny. Simple as that." Bart claims.

"Funny? You must be kidding me!" Skinner says. "This has to be the most unintelligible, imbecilic-"

"Ms. Tindol liked it!" Bart blurts, now appearing much more angry than annoyed. " _She_ said it was unique!" Skinner is caught off guard by the abrupt exclamation, but chooses to rather look over it and continue with what he was saying.

"I hate to be blunt, but Bart... This won't get you _anywhere_ in life, I can guarantee that." Skinner says. "However, if you _do_ want to get anywhere with art, I suggest you start following the rules of art."

Bart scowls with spleen. "Well... Ms. Tindol said there **_were_** no rules to art! What do you have to say about _that?!_ "

Such a thing like "no rules" sounded outlandish to the principal.

"Nonsense." Skinner says. "Everything has rules, whether you'd like to believe it or not. Without rules, there'd be nothing but pure, unbridled bedlam. Rules are the foundation of a firm and stable society. That's simply what kids like you want to believe."

"Ms. Tindol isn't a kid, and she was the one who told me that!" Bart remarks.

"Oh, _please,_ Simpson. She was clearly just trying to make you feel better." Skinner asserts. Bart's expression changes to appear more shocked.

"... That... That's not true. You don't know what you're saying!" Bart defensively claims.

Skinner sighs and leans in closer once more. "Bart, once again, I am just going to tell it how it is. I want you to look at yourself. There's no denying you're far from a 'model student' like, say... Martin! I'm sure she saw you, realized you needed a 'nudge in the right direction'... I had my doubts when I heard such positive notes about you from her. I knew there was something going on, but I didn't know _what_ _._ However, after some speculation, I may just have it."

Bart begins to get tense. He feared to see where Skinner was going with this.

He continues. "I hate to say it, but I'm _certain_ she was just trying to... Well, just trying to make you feel 'special'."

Bart's sclerae grow. "... Wh... Wh-What do you-"

"She feels bad for you, Bart. She just wants to make a challenged boy like you feel like he's making an impact, when in reality, the only thing you're making is trouble... Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?"

Bart couldn't speak, and he felt that sickly feeling from earlier creep back upon him. He couldn't understand, he didn't _want_ to understand. There's just no way... But when he _really_ thought about it...

"... No... N-No, no, you don't-" Bart stammers. "You don't know what you're saying!"

"Excuse me?" Skinner says. "I'll have you know, young man, I'm _well_ aware of what I'm saying."

Bart's perturbation began to evolve into rage. "No! You have no idea what you're saying! Because if you _did,_ you'd realize what you're saying is complete bull!"

Skinner, feeling a bit intimidated, sits up quickly. "Ex ** _cuse_** me?!" He repeats, even louder than before.

Bart loses it. "Would you just _shut up?!_ "

Skinner's jaw drops and he doesn't make a word. Bart pants vigorously as he allows his fury to subside. Skinner had always seen Bart as a problem child, but he'd never imagine he'd cross such a line with authority. Even Bart was slowly beginning to realize the mistake he's made, but there was nothing he could do now. The words came out, and there was no going back in.

Skinner's jaw closed gradually, and he continued to stare at Bart, who stared back. Bart's angry face morphs into a neutral expression, and soon, a regretful frown. Now that he had Bart where he wanted him, Seymour reverted back to his austere glower. Skinner looks down at his arm to check his watch, and then back at the student.

"You know, Bart. I was considering letting you go home. I thought you had enough, maybe even learned a bit of a lesson, but I've changed my mind... How about we have a little more fun?"

Bart gulps. This can't be good.

The principal gets up from his chair and approaches his ivory file cabinet in the corner of the office. He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a small, silver key. He sticks the key into the cabinet's keyhole and begins to unlock it. "I know you'll _love_ this activity..." He mumbles, as he unlocks it. Once it's unlocked, he faces back at Bart.

"You see, Simpson, I've been getting a tad unorganized as of lately, what with all the documents I've been working on." He explains. "Because of this, I've never really found anytime to fix things up, so how about you do it for me?" Seymour bends down and opens the lowest cabinet door, to reveal several files.

"I'd like you to alphabetize all 739 of these documents by title. If I see a single mistake, you're starting from the beginning. Is that clear?"

Saying anything but "yes" would only worsen the situation, and Bart knew that. He decided to just take it this time around. "Yes, sir." He mutters, his head hanging low.

Skinner smirks. "Have fun."

* * *

 _ **Yet Another 2 Hours Later**_

"Aaaaand... Done!"

It was about 7 PM and what with the current month being November, It was already pitch black outside. Bart had finally concluded with his cabinet arranging. Skinner walks towards it to inspect.

"... Hmm.." He mumbles, his finger resting on his chin. "Alright, Simpson. You're finished."

"Really? You aren't gonna check?" Bart asks.

"I trust you."

" _Funny... Y_ _ou didn't seem to trust me all 42 times you corrected me..._ " Bart murmurs under his breath.

Skinner looks back at his watch. "Hm. It's getting quite late. You should be getting home."

" _You think?!_ " Bart says in his head. (And made sure it stayed there. He didn't want to find another way to get under Skinner's skin.)

"How about you run along now? I think you've done enough." Skinner advises. Bart picks up his backpack and straps it over his shoulders. He's just about to head for the door, before he is stopped by Skinner's firm hand on his shoulder.

"And let this be a lesson to you, Simpson..." He hisses coldly into his ear. Bart shudders and nods frantically. Skinner lets him go, and continues to glare at him as he walks out through his office door. He sighs once he's exited.

"That boy is something else..." He mumbles, before returning to his desk to continue working.

Bart didn't want to waste one more minute in that school, so he speed-walks towards the nearest exit.

" _I can't believe this, I can't believe this..._ " He kept repeating under his breath, because frankly, he couldn't believe _any_ of it. This entire day had been nothing but new disappointments being chucked at him from left and right, and he knew he had to get out of there as quickly as he could.

There were too many things going on, and he couldn't focus on a single one. What's going to happen at school tomorrow? What will Homer and Marge say? _Why is Ms. Tindol pregnant?!_

Bart had finally reached the two large main double doors of the school. Before opening them, Bart zips open his bag and pulls out his neon green skateboard, for it was his only means of transportation. (Other than his legs, of course.)

With the board by his side, Bart pushes open the doors and walks out into the bleak, dark night. He had some trouble seeing what was around him. However, he had gotten fairly acquainted to the city during his 10 years of living there, so it wouldn't be too much of a hindrance. He could hear the soft sounds of crickets nearby and the hushed drifts of wind surrounding him.

Bart sighs. "This day can't _possibly_ get any worse."

Right on cue, it started raining. And _hard._

Bart doesn't even attempt to act surprised, and merely slouches over and groans with vexation. Besides, having a fit would only make the situation worse, and realized if he wanted to get it over with, he should just get going before bad luck struck once again. He places his skateboard on the ground in front of him, and proceeds to stomp the end of it so it would stand upward and he could get started.

However, the force Bart had exerted was much too powerful, not to mention that board had gotten fairly insubstantial over the years, and once it touched the ground, one of the wheels popped right off, ultimately rendering it useless.

Bart can only stare at the dismantled wheel with disbelief. Sure, he could re-attach it later, but he was too busy thinking about his current situation to focus on later events. Now, he had no way of getting home.

Bart grimaces. "Son of a-"

Just then, a flash of lightning strikes fiercely in the sky, alarming him greatly. Bart yelps and clutches onto his rapidly-beating heart. Once the bolt diminishes, Bart pants heavily as he allows his blood pressure to wane down.

Once he's calmed, he removes his hand from his chest and looks down at his skateboard, as drops of rain rapidly hit the back of his head and slide down his back. At a complete loss of what to do, Bart simply picks up his skateboard and reluctantly walks home through the pitch-black, wet streets of Springfield.

* * *

 **Meanwhile... (About... 30 minutes later.)**

We cut to the cozy domicile of the Simpsons. The whole family (sans Bart, who was still finding his way home, and Maggie, who was fast asleep in her crib.) was downstairs in the kitchen. Homer was leaning his back on the counter, while he ate a pink frosted donut, Marge was hard at work arranging the clean dishes, and Lisa, who stood in the middle of the two, was chatting to her parents about her day at school.

"... And we got our place values quiz back today, and I got a 100%!" Lisa beams.

"Great job, Lisa!" Marge congratulates.

"We also got our magnets test back in science, and I got a 100 on that too!" She says.

"We're _very_ proud of you, dear." Marge smiles. "Isn't that right, Homer?"

Homer, who was lost in his own train of thought, didn't respond and continued to eat his donut.

"... Homer?" Marge repeats, which snaps Homer back to reality.

"Huh? What's going on?" He blurts.

"I was just telling Lisa about how proud we are of her hard work." Marge informs him.

"Hm? ... Ohhh, yeah! Right!" Homer chuckles. "We're very proud of you, sweetie!"

"Thank you, Daddy!" Lisa smiles. "We took our quiz on verbs today, and while I won't be receiving it back until tomorrow, I'm almost certain I've passed with flying colors!"

"Flying colors? Ooh! Where?" Homer grins, as he begins searching for these so-called "flying colors".

"Dad, it's just an expression." Lisa explains.

"Oh..." Homer mutters. "Well, I'm certain you passed too, honey."

Lisa grins with all her teeth. "Today has just been stellar! Everything has been going perfectly, and nothing can possibly ruin it! All I've been getting is good news here and there and..." Lisa stops to gasp, as she's come to a shocking realization.

"What is it, Lisa?" Marge questions.

"Oh my god, I've nearly forgotten to tell you both the fantastic news!" She smiles.

"Fantastic news? Does it involve hot dogs, hamburgers, bacon, donuts, or beer in any way, shape, or form?" Homer asks.

Lisa nods her head "no".

Homer crosses his arm as he looks away with disdain. "Hmph... Must not be very good news then..." He mumbles.

"Homer, don't be so rude!" Marge scolds. "We'd love to hear the news, Lisa."

Lisa, who was practically seeping with enthusiasm, exclaims, "My art teacher is having a _baby!_ "

"Oh, Lisa, that's wonderful news!" Marge chimes. "She must be very, very happy."

"Yeah! Congratulations on getting straight A's!" Homer smiles, obviously unaware of what she was talking about.

Marge arches her brow. "Homer, Lisa wasn't talking about her grades, she was talking about her _teacher._ "

"Huh? ... Oh, right! Congratulations on become a teacher, Lisa!" Homer says, patting his daughter's head.

Knowing there was no point in trying to correct her father, Lisa just chooses to play along. "Erm... Thanks, Dad..." She forces a smile.

Just then, the house's doorbell is sounded, and they all take heed of it.

"Oh! That must be Bart!" Marge speaks. "Back from another hard day of art, I suppose! Such a good boy!"

Lisa nods. "I'll go get it!"

She rushes towards the door and reaches for the knob. She twists it open, only to be greeted with the glum-faced Bart. The rain certainly had done a number on him, as his hair, face, clothes, shoes, and skateboard were drenched in it. Lisa seemed to be somewhat oblivious to Bart's moroseness however, as she completely looked over it.

"Hi, Bart!" She greets pleasantly. "How was after-school art today?"

Bart still wore his angered expression, as he walked right past her as if she wasn't there.

Lisa continues. "You were gone for so long... You must've really gotten some learning in-"

"I didn't _have_ art." Bart coldly replies without looking at her. Lisa now begins to notice Bart's unusual sullen behavior, and gives him an unsure glance.

"Hm... I see." She mumbles, as she follows him. As Bart saunters through the house, he tracks in rain water from his dripping sneakers. Lisa tries her best to walk around these.

On his way, Bart passes the kitchen, hoping to go unnoticed by his parents. Unfortunately, his attempt proved to be futile, as his mother came rushing towards him with a gleeful expression.

"Oh, Bart, honey! We missed you!" She smiles, hugging onto her son like he had just come back from fighting in a war. (When in reality, he had only been gone for a few hours.) Bart strains and squirms in Marge's grasp. Lucky for him, she almost immediately lets go of him after feeling Bart's soaked body.

"Mmmm... You're awfully wet, dear." Marge says, getting a good look at Bart.

"Hey, boy!" Homer smiles as he walks up to his son. He also notices Bart's apparent wetness. "Woah! What happened to you?"

"I'll let you take a guess..." Bart murmurs, facing the ground.

"Hmm... Did you let those bullies give you a swirly again?" Homer asks.

"No." Bart replies. "Try again..."

"Or... Did you get in a water balloon fight? Maybe... You fell in a pond? Yeah, that's it! Am I getting warmer?"

Bart grunts under his breath with frustration.

Marge steps in. "Homer, Bart's clearly wet because of the rain outside!" She pushes the kitchen's windows open, to reveal the heavy storm.

"Ohhh.. That makes much more sense..." Homer says.

Marge takes another gander at the window and murmurs. "Oh my... It's raining cats and dogs out there..."

Lisa sighs dreamily. "Oh, I wish..."

"I just hope it doesn't wake Maggie. Nowadays I have trouble putting her back to sleep." Marge adds.

"I'm sure she'll be fine, Marge." Homer says. "She's slept through _way_ worse. Like last year at the hospital, when you were giving birth! All that screaming and straining, and she slept like a newborn!"

"Homer, that's because she _was_ the one I was giving birth to." Marge says.

Bart begins to shiver, still feeling mildly frigid from being out in the cold for so long. Marge hears this, and looks back at Bart.

"Oh, you poor soul... Would you like a towel?" Marge asks, placing her hand on Bart's moist shoulder. He quickly brushes it off though.

"I'm fine." He replies grimly.

Lisa, Homer, and Marge all look at each other, sharing an equal amount of confusion towards Bart's behavior. Sure, it'd be expected for a child not to be all "sunshine and rainbows" after walking in the rain for half an hour, but they didn't think he'd be so... Bitter. There was definitely something else on his mind. Lisa hopes bringing up a more lighthearted subject would brighten the mood.

"Bart! Did you hear?" She asks. "Ms. Tindol is having a _baby!_ Isn't that just great?" There it was.

Bart flinches and winces at having the exact source of all of today's problems brought back to him. He could feel all sort of different emotions being triggered at this very moment, and at the fear of having another meltdown, Bart quickly sprints up to his room, grunting under his breath as he did so. This only left the 3 more concerned.

Marge gasps, her hands placed over her mouth. "Oh my! I-I just don't get it! Why is Bart acting so strange?" Homer shrugs in response.

"I desire the answer to that question just as much as you do, Mom." Lisa admits. "I'm trying my best to piece this together, but... I just can't seem to find it! There's got to be a variable I'm looking past..."

"Well, let us know when you think of something, dear." Marge says. "I'm very worried for our special little guy..."

* * *

Bart had heard a bit of what his family was saying about him on his way up to his room.

" _Great..._ " He mumbles. " _Now they're just gonna keep probing me for answers..._ "

He pushes open the door to his bedroom, but in stead of sitting at his desk to work on a drawing, he fell onto his bed. It was only a few minutes before 8, which was about an hour before Bart's usual sleeping time. But he knew the sooner he slept, the sooner this horrid day would end.

Bart lays with his belly facing the mattress. He grabs his yellow pillow and buries his face into it, as he groans hoarsely into it. He didn't know what to do.

"I... I just can't believe this..." He says, for about the umpteenth time today. He strengthens his clutches on the pillow.

"I can't believe it, I _won't_ believe it! I-I don't want to believe it! It's just _not fair!_ " He exclaims, coming very close to tearing his pillow apart from stress. "I'm angry! I'm so angry!" He growls. He gradually loosens his grab.

"... B-But... I wanna cry..." He mutters. "You don't cry when you're angry... Y-You break stuff! And kick walls! But what's that gonna do?!" Bart clings once again.

"Stop it, Bart! Just stop it, right now! You aren't thinking straight..." He holds onto his forehead. "You don't want to cry... Y-You never cry! Well... Unless you want something..." He pauses. "... But... I _do_ want something..." His lips begin to tremble, similar to that of an infant.

"I... I want _Ms. Tindooool!_ " He whines. Completely disregarding what he had previously told himself, Bart bursts into tears. He buries his face into his pillow, so his cries would be muffled. The last thing he needed was to attract attention.


	7. Tindol Tailor Soldier Spy

Disclaimer - The rights to _The Simpsons_ and its characters belong to Matt Groening, the Fox Broadcasting Company, and any others associated with the show. No profit is being made from this fanfiction, this is all just for fun :)

 _ **Sorry for the wait, this week has been hell, academically-wise. I'll try to be more prompt in the future! Also, I apologize if this chapter isn't too good. I've been rushing myself severely during the weekends to get this out, and I think it influenced the quality of this chapter... Once again, I'll try to do better in the future.**_

 _ **Also, just something to keep in mind, this chapter was originally going to be much longer. However, while writing this one, I decided to split this chapter into 2 separate ones. Not only would this mean getting this one out quicker, but it would also keep one chapter from being overwhelmingly long. So think of it as a chapter 7 part 1 and 2 or a chapter 7.1 and 7.2. Whatever floats you boat! Either way, enjoy...**_

* * *

 **Chapter 7 - Tindol Tailor Soldier Spy**

It was early Friday morning at the Simpson household.

It had been a week since our previous events, and currently, the family (sans Marge) was seated at their circular dining table, draped with its royal blue sheet. Marge stood in front of the kitchen's aqua counters, humming to herself as she prepared lunch for Bart and Lisa to take to school with them. Just goes to show a mother's work is never done.

Meanwhile, at the table, Homer, Lisa, Bart, and Maggie all had their breakfasts in front of them. Maggie sat in her high chair, messily spooning her hot cereal into her mouth. Bart and Lisa had bowls of children's cereal, and Homer, being the somewhat infantile man he was, ate the same brand they were eating. Despite it being 8 in the morning, Homer was up to yet another one of his puerile antics.

As mentioned, Homer was consuming a bowl of cereal. Strangely, every time he'd finish the one in his bowl, he'd rapidly add a new batch of cereal and milk in at a vigorous speed. This whole process of him gulping down a bowl, adding a new batch in, and eating that batch all happened within the short span of _5 seconds,_ almost as if he was in a serious rush to get somewhere.

Marge overhears Homer's hard-to-miss slurping and turns around to take heed to this.

"Homer, we talked about this..." She places her knuckles on her hips. "Could you please eat your cereal in a more civilized manner?"

"No can do, Marge." Homer says, immediately going back to eating his cereal.z

"I promise, Homie, there's no need to rush. You aren't going to miss work!" Marge assures.

"Miss work? I wish..." Homer says, picking up back where he left off.

Marge raises her eyebrow. "Oh? Then you must really like this cereal..." She assumes.

"Pssh! This crap? Not a chance!" Homer claims. However, he still continues to eat the cereal. Now Marge was even _more_ confused.

"Then... Why are you eating it like that?" She questions.

Homer finally takes a break so he can fully explain. "Be _cause_ Marge, the box says right here that if you finish all the cereal, you'll get a special prize at the bottom of the box!"

"A special prize?" Marge repeats for clarification.

"Mmhm! A special prize!" Homer nods. He picks up the colorful cereal box, and begins reading off the back of it. "See, the box says there are 5 prizes in all: The Krusty the Clown brand cereal spoon, the Krusty the Clown brand glow-in-the-dark stick, the Krusty the Clown brand race car that comes with the Krusty the Clown brand customizable sticker set, the Krusty the Clown brand PEZ dispenser, and last but not least, the Krusty the Clown brand talking kazoo, that makes Krusty's trademark 'hey hey' when you hum into it! Ooh, fingers crossed for the kazoo!"

Marge tries her best to be patient with her husband's childishness. "Homer, you realize you can just _remove_ the bag of cereal and take the prize that's under it...?"

"But Marge, that's cheating!" Homer whines. "And what kind of a man would I be if I cheated? I'm gonna win this prize fair and square! Do you think Christopher Columbus cheated when he discovered Antarctica? Well, he didn't, and that's how he became the first president of the United States! Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a prize to win!" Homer resumes his rapid eating, and Marge can only murmur with indignation. Besides, it would be easier to just let Homer get away with it.

Luckily, Homer was nearing the end of the box. He pours in the last bit of cereal and milk and quickly ingests it all in, finally satisfied. Homer drinks the last bit of milk left in the bowl and grins triumphantly, as he picks up the empty cereal box again to see his "special prize".

However, when he peeked inside, there _was_ no prize inside.

Homer frowns. "D'oh!" He grunts. "What a rip-off! This is the 6th time this has happened!"

Lisa speaks up. "Dad, if it makes you feel any better, I think I know where your prize is."

"You do?!" Homer gasps. He clutches onto Lisa's shoulders tightly and brings his face dangerously close to hers. "Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!"

"I'd appreciate it if you took your hands off me, Dad..."

"Oh, sorry." Homer says, quickly putting his hands back to his side.

Lisa begins her explanation. "I was examining you eat your cereal, and you must have been so caught up with eating your way through to get to the prize, that you didn't even notice..." She gets cut off by her own uncontrollable tittering. Homer began to get severely impatient.

"What? I didn't even notice _what?_ Tell me, Lisa! I can't take this pressure!" He whinges, almost like a child would.

Lisa tames her giggling. "I'm sorry..." She says with a tiny grin. "You didn't even notice... You _ate_ the prize with the cereal! Just like I'm sure you did all those previous times you couldn't find your prize!"

Now that she had mentioned it, Homer _did_ realize he was going awfully fast, and that must've caused the prize to land right into his mouth without him noticing. But he still had his doubts.

"Ate it? No I didn't!" Homer asserts. "I'll admit, I've done some pretty stupid things in my lifetime, but there's no way I'd _ever-_ "

Just then, Homer burps (evidently due to all the milk he had just drank). When he does, a very odd thing happens: Krusty the Clown's trademark "Hey, hey!" Is heard from him. However, it is not Homer who makes this sound, but something inside of him...

He gasps with disbelief. "The Krusty the Clown brand talking kazoo?!" He had clearly eaten it, and the burp triggered the toy's sound to go off inside of him.

 ** _(A/N: I am fully aware that a burp wouldn't sound a kazoo in real life, but come on, this is "The Simpsons", give me a break.)_**

He sighs with chagrin. "Ohhh..."

"Don't worry, Dad." Lisa says, as she begins rummaging through her pockets for something, and pulls out a small glow stick. "You can have my Krusty the Clown brand glow-in-the-dark stick, if you want."

"Really?" Homer asks, brightening up. Lisa nods and hands him the stick. Homer takes it and looks at it, but isn't as impressed as you'd think he'd be.

"They ripped you off too, Lisa! It isn't even glowing!" Homer gripes. "I swear, when I get my hands on that Krusty, he'll wish he never messed with the Simpsons!"

Lisa sighs. "It's called a _glow-in-the-dark_ stick for a reason... You have to wait till it's dark! How about you try again tonight?" Lisa suggests.

"Hmm, ok. I'll take your word for it..." Homer mumbles. "... Er.. C-Could you be there with me? Just in case it doesn't work and I need your help...?" He bashfully asks.

Lisa smiles and nods her head "yes".

Homer sighs with relief. "Oh good... Hey, Lisa! Watch this, I can make the sound again!" Homer burps, and the "hey, hey" is head once again. Despite Lisa being the most mature member of the family, she was still an 8 year old, and couldn't help but find this slightly amusing.

"Hehe!" She giggles. "Again!"

Homer complies, and activates the kazoo's sound once more. Lisa laughs a second time, and Maggie begins to giggle as well, clapping her hands together as she did. Even Marge, who was initially vexed at Homer's childishness, couldn't help but titter a bit herself. The whole family laughs among themselves, greatly relishing this rare moment of spending time together as a family (without conflict arising, that is.) They were all enjoying themselves, all of them except... Bart.

Still feeling severely disconsolate since what had taken place last week, Bart sat at the table, sorrowfully staring down at his knees. His untouched bowl of cereal stood in front of him, getting noticeably soggy from sitting in the milk for so long.

He hadn't spoken a word since he had woken up, and wasn't drawing as much attention to himself like he usually did at the breakfast table. No flinging his oatmeal, no wearing his bowl over his head, not even jingling his cutlery around. He just faced down gloomily.

In fact, that's how it was all week. Bart spoke an average of 4 to 5 times a day, and whenever he did, they were usually responses to queries, and these responses contained a minimal amount of words. Heck, sometimes he downright _refused_ to reply to people.

It wasn't a surprised that Bart had returned to being a very careless student, and it didn't take very long for his "A" in art to fade out of existence. But what was the point anymore? Art was just like any other class with Skinner running it, which made him less inclined to succeed.

In brief, Bart wasn't in the best mood since losing his teacher, and hasn't been as social as he once was. In stead, he found much more enjoyment in being alone, and couldn't remember the last time he touched his sketchbook.

At this point, the laughter in the room had died down. Lisa and Maggie continued to eat their breakfasts while Marge continued preparing lunch.

"Bart, Lisa, what would you like for lunch today?" Marge asks, unfolding two brown lunch bags open.

"Hmm..." Lisa thinks. "Pita bread! With some hummus on the side, too, please!"

"Mmhm!" Marge opens up a bag of Pita and puts it inside the bag, along with a small container of hummus. "How about you, Bart? What do you want for lunch?"

Bart doesn't respond, and in stead, keeps facing down. Marge awkwardly waits a few more seconds for him to say something. The whole room gets silent.

"... Er... How about a sandwich?" She suggests, forcing a smile. Bart doesn't argue with her decision.

She takes out two slices of white bread and starts putting slices of tomato, lettuce, and ham in between. "Do you want it cut into quarters or diagonal?" She asks, hoping to actually receive a reply. Once again, Bart doesn't speak.

Marge murmurs. "Mmmm... Diagonal it is..."

Lisa looks over at her brother worriedly. It was just so perplexing, Lisa had always been known for her keen sense of observation and sleuth-like abilities, yet she still hasn't been able to crack the case with what has been bothering her brother so much for the past week. Initially, she had thought it was something petty and trifling, but she knew even Bart wouldn't hold onto something like that for this long. She spent the last 7 days practically cooped up in her room, trying to make sense out of this, wondering what could possibly be on his mind. However, her attempts proved fruitless, and all of her theories were quickly disproved. Though, she hasn't given up just yet.

Homer catches a glance of Bart himself, and whispers something to Lisa in a not-so-discreet tone.

"Hey, Lisa... Call me crazy, but I don't think Bart's very happy right now..." He states.

Seeing as Homer wasn't speaking very unobtrusively himself, Lisa saves herself the trouble and speaks in a normal tone of voice. "Well, of course, Dad! He's been like this since last week! I just wish I knew why..."

"Hmm.. Well, when you kids were babies and started getting crabby, it was usually because you were hungry," Homer says. "so maybe he just needs some food in him!"

Lisa makes an unsure face. "Dad, I don't think that's why he's-"

Before she can conclude, Homer gets up and stands behind Bart's chair. He lifts up Bart's cereal spoon and holds it towards his gloomy face.

"Open up, Bart!" Homer sings. "Here comes the airplane! Choo choo! Wait a second... That's a train... Uh.. Beep! Beep! No, that's a bus... Hmm.. I think it's... Honk! No, wait... What sound does a plane make again?"

"Dad, I think you should sit down..." Lisa advises, as she begins to spot Bart getting noticeably irritated.

"No, wait! I've got this!" Homer assures. "Uh... Reeown! Pbbbt! Yeah! Yeah! That's it! Open up, boy!"

Homer attempts to get Bart to take in the food, but his mouth was practically hinged shut. "C'mon... C'mon..." He mutters, trying his best to get it into his mouth. After nearly a whole minute of trying, Homer realizes it's no use. He shrugs, and starts eating the cereal himself.

"Dad!" Lisa scolds.

"What?" Homer innocently queries. "It's not like _he_ was gonna eat it!" Lisa rolls her eyes.

Maggie, having finished her breakfast, puts her pacifier in her mouth and begins sucking on it. She looks over at her brother and she, being of above-average intelligence for her age, immediately recognizes his distraught state. There wasn't much she could do as a baby, so she did the only thing she could think of: she removes the binky from her mouth and holds it out to her brother with a bright smile on her face, hoping offering him the pacifier would cheer him up.

Obviously, this doesn't work, as Bart is unresponsive to her attempt and keeps looking at his knees. Maggie takes the hint and sadly places it back in her mouth.

From there, the room gets dead silent. Homer had quickly lost interest in his (stolen) cereal and just stares at Bart. Lisa does the same, just with more concern. Maggie stares at her brother also, and Marge, who had her back turned, still worriedly peaked at Bart from the corner of her eye. This silence drags on for a rather uncomfortable amount of time, until Marge speaks up (still with her back turned from the table).

"Bart... I've been saying this for the past few days, and I'll say it again... Whatever's bothering you, you can tell us... We'll try our best to help you..."

There is some silence before she continues. "Just so you know, we've been _very_ worried about you..."

Now finished with her statement, she awaits a reply. The whole family did. All 4 pairs of eyes were glued onto Bart, hoping just about _anything_ would come out of his mouth. The wait was truly harrowing, and Bart was beginning to test their patience. After nearly an entire minute, however, Bart finally gives a response.

That is, if you could even call it a response, as it did not consist of a single word, but merely a sigh.

The 4 of them exchange blank glances. Not the response they were hoping for, but at least he... _Acknowledged_ them, in a way.

Right on cue, the Springfield Elementary school bus is overheard pulling in in front of their house.

Marge immediately snaps back into "mother mode". "Oh! Bart, Lisa! I think I hear the bus outside, quick! Go, go, go!"

Lisa hurriedly jumps out of her seat, while Bart grimly pushes his chair out, giving him room to exit. Marge follows both kids outside, leaving Homer and Maggie at the table by themselves.

"Heh... Poor suckers..." Homer smirks. "Imagine how awful it must be to wake up at 7 in the morning only to get all dressed up to spend tedious hours at some building where you just sit down, listen to some old bag blabber about god only _knows_ what, and only get 30 minutes to eat half-decent food! Then after all of it, you come home a tired wreck! I mean, can you _imagine_ how unfortunate a person would have to be to... _D'oh!_ "

The first thing they see is the open school bus in front of their sidewalk. Marge nearly pushes Bart to get on, but strangely, keeps Lisa by her side.

"Go on, Bart! You don't want to be late for school, now do you?" She urges. Bart doesn't fight back and allows Marge to force him onto the bus. Once he reaches the small steps, she lets go of him and allows him to walk inside. Marge looks at Otto.

"Lisa will be on in just a second." She informs the bus driver. "I just need to... Talk to her for a few seconds."

"Take your time." He says. "I need to wait for the effects to wear off before I continue driving anyways."

"Effects of what?" Marge questions.

"Effects of... Uh... My medication!" He states with a sketchy grin. Marge tilts her head uncertainly.

"Hmm.. Ok.." She heads back to Lisa, still giving Otto a suspicious glance as she leaves.

Lisa stood on the front porch rather impatiently. She looks up at her mother. "Mom, can we hurry this up, please? I don't want to be late for school!"

"It'll be quick, Lisa!" Marge assures her. "Now... Do you still have our... 'means of communication'."

Lisa sighs. "Yes..." She mumbles, lifting up a "Malibu Stacy" themed walkie talkie from one of her pockets. "Do _you?_ "

"You bet I do!" Marge takes out an identical walkie talkie. "Now, do you remember the plan?"

Lisa continues to speak in a very monotonous, uninterested tone. "Yup... You want me to 'spy' on Bart at school and get as much 'intel' I can, then communicate all of my findings to you over these walkie talkies, right?"

"Mmhm!" Marge nods optimistically. "Foolproof, right?"

"I suppose..."

Lisa, being the skeptic she was, was very dubious of this. It all started last night, when Marge told Lisa about her idea on how to find out what's been irking Bart lately. Her mother was known for her rather outre schemes, so even before she heard her out, Lisa wasn't very "on board" with her proposition. But Lisa wasn't one for dismissing ideas without at least giving them a shot, so she decided to see where they could go with this. Who knows? It could prove to be successful. Her doubt, however, was still plainly visible.

"Remember, Lisa, I'm counting on you to keep an eye on Bart all of today!" Marge says. "Wait, wait! I mean, on the 'Paperbag Punk'!" She winks.

Lisa rolls her eyes. "Mom, we don't have to use the code names yet..."

"I'm just practicing, Lisa." Marge says. "Did you pack extra batteries into your backpack in case the walkie talkie gives out?"

Lisa glances at the walkie unsurely. "... Mom, are you _sure_ this will work?"

"Of course I'm sure!" Marge says. "I even saw it on a TV show once! It was about two spies using these super high-tech walkie talkies to get information on this other guy!"

"And how did _that_ turn out?" Lisa inquires.

Marge curls her finger under her chin. "Mmmm.. Well, the two spies ended up killing each other in the end... But I wasn't paying much attention anyway."

Lisa gives her mother an unconvinced glare, but knows disagreeing would only make this drag on for much longer. She decides to just go with it.

"Fine... We'll try." says Lisa.

Marge bursts with glee. "Oh, thank you, sweetie! You won't regret this!" She bends down to hug Lisa tightly.

"Can I go now, please?" Lisa begs. Not only was she on a schedule, but she couldn't help but feel as if the whole bus had their eyes locked onto her.

"Oh, right!" Marge lets go of Lisa, and allows her to make her way onto the bus. "Bye, Bart! Bye, Lisa!" She bids, before walking back into the house, her large beehive locks barely managing to fit under their doorway, as usual.

By now, Lisa had found her brother and the bus had continued on its way to school.

Lisa sees Bart, his face just as gloomy as it was at the table.

"Is... Um... This seat taken?" She asks, forcing a grin.

Without a word, Bart scooches towards the bus' seat's window and stares through it, avoiding eye contact with his sister. Lisa takes this as a "yes", and awkwardly sits next to him, making sure to discreetly put her talkie in her book bag, allowing the antenna to peak out through her open zipper.

The initial preliminary task from Marge was to find a way to distract Bart on the bus so he wouldn't pay any heed to her using the walkie talkie. However, Lisa didn't think this was necessary, as Bart looked pretty distracted by his own anguish already, so she began.

Lisa takes the pink walkie talkie from her bag and examines it the best she could to find the button she needed to press to contact Marge.

" _Hm... This is volume, this is the power button... Gah! I knew I should've stuck to the original model in stead of buying this needlessly complicated one!_ " Lisa complains. " _Think, Lisa... What did the manual say again...? Transmission is... Here!"_

Lisa clicks a small button on the device's side. However, Lisa has to remind herself that this is still a toy, and in stead of transmitting her to her mother, it plays another one of Malibu Stacy's rather controversial phrases.

"I can't open this bottle of nail polish! Where's a man when you need one?" The toy chirps. Lisa groans with repugnance.

She finds another button, except it was much bigger than the previous one. She holds onto that one with her finger, hoping it was the right one.

" _Oh please, oh please!"_ She chants internally. "H-Hello...?" She silently says towards the speaker. A familiar, croaky voice is heard on the other line.

"Hello? Lisa?" Marge replies, her voice being slightly muffled by the radio static. Lisa smiles with relief.

"Yes!" She grins, and clears her throat. "Pony Whisperer is on! Do you copy?" Lisa says in a whisper, hoping not to get Bart's attention.

"Do I wha-?" Marge questions. "And who's Pony Whisperer?"

Lisa sighs. " _Mom,_ that's my code name! We went over this last night! We can't use our real names..."

Marge is silent for a few seconds, trying her best to understand what she's getting at. Eventually, it hits her. "Ohhh! I forgot!" Marge chuckles at her mistake. "Let's start over!"

Lisa forbears from losing her mind. "Pony Whisperer is on... Do you copy?"

"Yes! I copy!" Marge speedily replies. "... Now what do I say?"

"Your _codename._ "

"Mmmm.. Oh, right! Sarge Mimpson to Pony Whisperer, I copy!"

Lisa makes a face. "Mom... Are you _really_ sure that's a good code name...?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Marge asks, evidently oblivious.

"I mean... 'Sarge Mimpson', a bit forthright, don't you think?" The daughter explains.

"Lisa, you _clearly_ don't get it." Marge remarks. "Sarge Mimpson is _Marge Simpson_ with the first letters switched! No one will be able to tell!"

Lisa clenches her fist. "Mom, _I_ _get it._ " She grits. "I'm just saying it's so..."

"So...?"

"... How about I just call you 'Mom' in stead?" Lisa suggests, trying to level her patience.

Marge raises an eyebrow. "Well, that will just give it away, won't it? I mean, it's so obvious!"

Lisa groans.

"Forget it..." She mumbles. Lisa gets back into character. "I'm on the bus with 'you-know-who'. We haven't reached school yet, but we should be there in a few minutes."

"10-1!" Marge says.

"10-1...?" Lisa asks, as if Marge said something wrong.

"Oh no no! Wait! I mean... 10-3! Right? Or.. 10-19? Yeah, I think it's 10-19!" Marge smiles.

"10- _4,_ Mom." Lisa corrects. "That means you understood what I said."

"I thought 10-4 means there's been an accident."

"That's 10- _50._ " Lisa states.

Marge murmurs. "Mmmm.. This was much less complicated in that TV show I saw... But Hollywood _does_ seem to enjoy glorifying certain things."

Marge was rambling at this point, so Lisa cuts in. "I can't talk for long, lest 'Paperbag' hears us and starts getting ideas. Over."

"Over... Hm.." Marge tries her best to analyze what Lisa had just said. "Uh.. Oh! Yeah! Over means you've finished your message, right?"

Lisa nods. "Mmhm. See, Mom, you're already getting the hang of this! Before you know it, you'll be a professional special agent."

Marge grins. "Like James Bond!"

"Well, I don't think I'd go as far as to call you James Bond, you're more of an... Austin Powers!" Lisa says.

"I'll take what I can get!" Marge says. "Now, if we're going to find out what's bothering your brother, you're gonna have to spend as much time with him as possible. You can do that for me, right?"

"But, Mom, I can't just spend the entire day watching Bart. I have my _own_ classes to attend." Lisa states.

"But there's gotta be a few times you see Bart in your free time, right?" Marge asks.

"Well... We _do_ have lunch and recess together, and sometimes we cross paths in the hallways-"

"Perfect! You're bound to learn _something_ in those moments," Marge remarks. "and don't be afraid to ask around. I'm sure that nice Milhouse boy should have some info on Bart. Ask him! You two seem to get along great!"

Lisa shudders a bit. "Ok..." She sighs.

"And don't forget, Lisa: tell me **_everything!_** " Marge directs.

"Ok..." Lisa repeats. "We're reaching school, so I'll call you back later."

"Have a wonderful day, sweetie!" Marge beams.

"You too. Pony Whisperer, signing off!"

"... Signing off what?"

* * *

Otto parks the school bus in front of Springfield Elementary's concrete sidewalk. Once he opens the door, 2 dozen students begin pouring out, each one conversing with a pal. Bart kept his distance from the others, and Lisa attempted to keep up with him. As he exits the vehicle, Lisa watches him, standing on the final bus step.

"' _Operation:_ _Wild Bart Chase' is a go._ " She says to herself. She leaps off the last step and begins approaching her downcast brother.

Bart's slouch lowers with each step. Lisa walks next to him with the intentions of getting his attention.

"So... Bart!" She gives him a sweet smile. "Are you excited for school today?"

Bart doesn't respond.

"Erm... Let me rephrase that... Are you excited for _art_ today?" Lisa thought that would've been a better question, what with Bart's newfound enjoyment in the subject. Unfortunately, she had chosen a fairly bad time to ask him that.

Without a word, Bart speeds his walking up to get away from her, saddening Lisa. However, this _did_ give her a clue.

" _Hmm... Bart seemed strangely apathetic about having art today... And now that I think about it, I don't remember the last time he showed me one of his inane drawings..._ " She says to herself.

Lisa removes her backpack and sets it on the ground. She begins rummaging through it and pulls out a small notepad and a black pen tucked through its rings. She begins jotting something down on the first line.

" _Losing interest in art(?)_ " She writes, making sure to add the question mark. Lisa slides the pad into her dress pocket and looks back at Bart, who was now long gone, possibly already in the building at this point. She shakes her head.

"Let's hope not..." She sighs to herself.

By now, Bart was trying to maneuver himself through the bustling hallways of Springfield Elementary. It was just as rowdy as it always was, children screaming, throwing paper planes and flinging spit balls at each other. And like always, no authority figure bothered to put a stop to it. It was old news at this point...

Bart manages to walk past the rambunctious setting, simply wanting to find his way to his classroom. He knew the only way to end something was to start it.

Once he found Mrs. Krabappel's door, he spots a familiar note attached to it. Yup, you guessed it: "4TH GRADE REPORT TO ART CLASS"

Bart makes a detour to the art room, having to pass through the same herd of wild classmates from 1 minute ago. After getting past _that_ catastrophe a second time, he spots the art room's tawny door and approaches it.

He twists the knob and opens the door, expecting to see the art room. But in stead, he's greeted with the sight of the educational bureaucrat himself: Seymour Skinner. He stands stiffly and sternly, glaring down at Bart with a dour expression, as if he had been expecting (and dreading) his presence. Bart doesn't physically react with shock or surprise like he usually would, but only glares right back at him.

"Bart, glad you could make it to class..." Skinner greets gravely, however he didn't sound as glad as he claimed. The reason for this was, of course, his now heightened distaste for the boy since he had spewed such rude words at him during detention. Despite this being a whole 7 days ago, Skinner was still stuck onto it.

"Why don't you... Take a seat, hm? We'll be starting class any second from now..." Skinner advises. Bart continues on in, facing forward grimly. Skinner watches him as he enters.

" _Hmph... The nerve of that boy..._ " He murmurs. " _He just can't be tamed, can he?_ "

Bart finds his desk in the same place it's always in: the middle seat in the middle row, smack dab in the middle of the classroom. (Guess that "Bart Simpson Effect" isn't exclusive to Krabappel's room) As we know, right next to said seat sat Milhouse Van Houten. Once Bart reaches his seat, he sits down and faces his desk, clearly not in the mood to converse. However, Milhouse wasn't able to catch the hint of this.

"Hey, Bart! How's it hangin'? I learned that from my cousin!" He tweets, trying his best to sound "cool" with the second sentence.

 _ **(A/N: By "cousin" I'm not referring to Annika. Just some random cousin Milhouse happens to have, I suppose.)**_

Bart give him a desultory wave back, and speaks for the first time in the _entire_ day.

"Hi, Milhouse..." He murmurs incoherently.

"Hey, you wanna see what I got yesterday?" Milhouse asks. He pulls a small stack of something from his pocket and sprawls them all out on his desk. They were baseball cards.

"Baseball cards! Cool, huh?" Milhouse grins at Bart, who doesn't even bother to heed to them. "I got them from a guy off the street, and all he asked for was my dad's credit card information in return!"

He begins listing off a few players that were on the cards. "We've got Derek Jeter, Bryce Harper, Barry Bonds... Ehh.. You can have Mario Mendoza..." He slides the card over to Bart, who doesn't react, or reach for it at all. Milhouse tilts his head.

"Bart, you've been awfully quiet for the past few days. Is something the matter? Cat got your tongue? My neighbor's cat got _my_ tongue once... I had to get it bandaged afterwards and I couldn't eat solid foods for two weeks.." Milhouse says, getting way off-topic. Before Bart is able to muster a reply, the school bell rings, signaling the start of class.

Instantaneously, all of the 4th graders straighten up in their seats and stop whatever they were doing. The students were intimidated enough as it was of Skinner, but after rumor had gotten out about the severe punishment he gave to Bart during last week's detention session, they only cowered at him all the more.

Once the bell cuts off, Skinner arises from him seat and stands in front of the class.

"Good morning, children!" He chimes.

"Good morning, Principal Skinner..." They each mumble in equally halfhearted tones. Except Martin, who speaks in a lively, awake tone with his hands folded on his desk.

"I'm certain you're all looking forward to the weekend, hm?" Skinner asks.

"Oh, yes, Principal Skinner!" Martin chirps. "I'm spending the whole 2 days practicing with my derivatives and hyperbolic trig function! It's sure to be a blast!" His fellow students roll their eyes.

"That's fantastic, Mr. Prince. Anybody else have exciting plans for this weekend?" Skinner queries.

Nelson Muntz speaks. "Me, Jimbo, Kearney, and Dolph are goin' down to the trailer park to chase some squirrels around, maybe a few raccoons, watch 'em squirm, y'know, the usual..."

"Hm... Sounds interesting, Mr. Muntz..." Skinner comments, having no better way to respond to such a strange hobby. "And while I'm sure you _all_ have great weekend plans, _mine_ easily takes the cake. Mother and I are visiting the 'Springfield Museum of Natural History' to see the recently opened Marine Corps exhibit! I wonder what they have, but I guess we're just going to have to wait and _SEAL,_ won't we?" Seymour chuckles at his own pun, while the students stare with lack of interest.

"... Oh, like you guys have anything better going on..." Skinner mumbles. "Besides, I'd rather be at the museum with mother than staying after school to pay the price for my actions..." He shoots Bart a conspicuous glare, as it was clear he was hinting towards him. He clears his throat. "And, erm... Speaking of the weekend, I have a big surprise for you all!"

Bart winces. Skinner's last "big surprise" is what had gotten him to his current depressive state.

"Since today is Friday, I thought we could do a more 'fun' activity this time... How does finger painting sound?"

The students' ears prick up after hearing this. They each form big grins and begin nodding their heads, showing their approval of the activity. (save for Bart, of course) Not only was it much better than cutting sheets of construction paper into turkeys, but it gave them an excuse to get messy in class.

Skinner grins at the student's enthusiasm. "Alright then! Smock up, the finger paints are in the third cabinet." He points towards the long line of cabinets containing art supplies. Each thrilled student rushes towards the drawers and practically begin toppling each other over to get their favorite colors.

Bart follows, once again finding himself at the very back of the herd. By the time he had arrived, everyone had gotten their pick, and only two colors were left: *grey and the bleakest of all blacks.

 _ ***(A/N: Just in case you weren't able to catch that reference, it's a small allusion to the short film "The Longest Daycare".)**_

Bart sighs and takes the two small craft paints to his desk.

 _ **10 (or so) Minutes Later...**_

Just about every student had gotten very invested in their piece. Many of them freely let their fingers dance the "Macarena" on their papers, while more cautious students like Martin performed vigilant, waltzes on theirs. No matter the technique, every student was enjoying themselves. Except... You guessed it.

"Bart! Look at _my_ painting!" Milhouse says, holding his paper towards his unresponsive friend. On his paper were directionless, red paint strokes. "It's supposed to be a dragon, see? Now, I know you may be thinking, 'That doesn't look anything like a dragon', but _that's_ only because... Uh... I'm not finished yet!"

He continues holding it to Bart, eagerly awaiting a response back. When he doesn't receive one, he tries to change the subject.

"So... What are you gonna make with your finger paints? Huh?" Milhouse questions. He takes a look at his two very insipid color choices.

"Hm... You can do a lot with grey and black, y'know?" Milhouse says, holding up the two bottles. "You can make... Uh... You can make a rainbow! Well, a rainbow that's grey and black..." Bart still doesn't give a reply.

"Aw, c'mon, Bart, you used to love finger painting! You'd always dip your fingers in the paint and chase Wendell around till he started puking! What changed?"

Bart doesn't respond, Milhouse frowns.

"Bart, please tell me what's wrong... If you don't talk to me then who else will?" Milhouse asks sympathetically. "And don't say Puppy Goo-Goo, because she's at nana's house right now getting dry cleaned!"

Milhouse continues to await his answer. However, the only thing Bart does in response is give another elongated sigh and exit his seat, immensely confusing his friend.

After getting up, Bart walks past the rows of desks in front of him and to the art room's main desk where Skinner sat. The principal was working on, yet, another one of his war dioramas. This time: the Spanish-American war.

He was using the same pair of tweezers to carefully maneuver through the model, and had even worn a small magnifying eyepiece, similar to that of a watchmaker's. All of his focus had been set on his model, which prevents him from noticing the 10-year old standing directly in front of the desk.

"Mmhm... We'll put the cannon _riiiight_ here... Actually, I think we should back that up a little, maybe move this little guy to the side so he isn't directly in front of it... Now, that wouldn't end very well, would it?" He chuckles a bit at his joke. Bart was beginning to lose his patience.

"Now, how about we tilt this around a bit... _Slooowly..._ " Skinner murmurs. He enhances the lens of his eyepiece to get a better look. Bart tries snapping his fingers to get his attention. This works, but prompts Skinner to accidentally drop his tweezers.

"Doggone it!" He exclaims, slamming his fist on the table. He looks forward and sees Bart, whose fingers were still rested in its "post finger-snapping position". Skinner glowers.

"I should've known..." He mumbles. "What could possibly be so important that it prevents me from continuing my assiduous task, Simpson-"

"I need to use bathroom." Bart replies almost too quickly.

"Pardon?"

"I need to use the bathroom." He repeats. "Can I be excused?"

Skinner is silent for a moment. "... Oh.. Well, sure." Seymour reaches across the desk for a bathroom pass, which he hands to Bart. "But no dawdling! If you aren't back in the next 5 minutes, I'll assume 1 of 2 things: you're trying to get out of class or... You're severely lacking in your fiber intake."

Bart takes the pass from him and walks out the door.

The distance from the art room to the bathroom was severely long, but that didn't Bart a bit. In fact, it worked in his favor. The truth was, he didn't _really_ need to go, but he could stand to burn some time off class, and this was the perfect way how.

He began his slow journey to the boys' restroom in the seemingly empty school hallways. Key word here is: seemingly.

Unbeknownst to him, he wasn't alone, as a very familiar face wasn't too far from him.

Lisa had, too, just exited her own classroom. She held an attendance sheet in her right hand with the intentions of taking it down to the office, possibly for a substitute teacher. She enjoyed doing this, just like many of her other classmates. However, unlike them, it wasn't to have an excuse to leave class.

She quietly hums to herself as she strolls through the soundless hallways, past just about every classroom's door.

" _Wow... To think right in this very moment, so many classes are going on. Not just here but all over the world... And each second, someone's learning something new that they can use later in there life... How incredible is that?_ " She says to herself. The mere aspect of learning amazed Lisa Simpson. Yet another thing that greatly separated her from her brother.

Lisa takes a right and ends up in another part of the hallway. At the end of this one were 2 paths, one leading left and the other leading right. She chooses the one pointing left, knowing it was a shortcut.

Bart is also given two paths, right or left. He chooses to go right. Little did the siblings know, they were entering the same hallway, and with Lisa coming in from one side and Bart coming in from the opposite, they were bound to meet face-to-face.

Lisa takes a look at the attendance sheet she held and examines it.

" _Hmm.. This is the 4th day in the row Chuck has been absent... I hope his carpal tunnel surgery is going well..._ " She says, as she notices the lack of "x's" marking off Chuck's presence. She finds her name and smirks. " _Lisa Simpson, once again, you've received perfect attendance! Let's hope it stays that way for the rest of the year._ "

Lisa puts the sheet back to her side, and when she looks forward, her yellow skin becomes pale once she sees Bart walking towards her. However, Bart didn't realize he was walking up to Lisa. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice her, period.

She had no idea why, but the second she saw him, her first instinct was to sneak into another open hallway and clutch her back onto it to hide from him. Bart must have been _very_ caught up in his feelings to not realize what had just happened, because he just continued walking with his head hanging low.

" _What's Bart doing here?!_ " Lisa asks herself. " _Oh, Lisa, what kind of question is that? Of course Bart's here, he goes to this school! Great... Now you're talking to yourself..._ "

She peeks out of the hallway to see if Bart is still there. Sure enough, he was.

" _I just don't get it. Why did I hide? It's not like I'm spying on him... Except..._ " She looks down at her pocket. The fuchsia antenna of her walkie talkie poked out like it was nobody's business. Lisa sighs.

" _Except... I am, aren't I?_ " Lisa hangs her head down, ridden with guilt. By now, Bart has entered the boys' restroom, and the hallway returns to its previously vacant state. Taking advantage of this opportunity, Lisa takes out the walkie talkie and holds onto its transmission.

"H-Hello?" She stammers.

Meanwhile at home, Marge was in the laundry room, humming whilst she folded and arranged the family's clean clothes into a large hamper. Maggie was there too. The infant had perched herself on top of the currently operating washing machine. It was on its "spin cycle", causing the machine (and Maggie) to vibrate viciously. As usual, Maggie was unfazed by this, and continued to suck on her pacifier.

Marge's walkie talkie sat on top of the clothes dryer. Her humming was put to a halt when she hears her daughter's high-pitched voice coming out of its speaker.

"Hello? Mom?" Lisa repeats with a tad more confidence. "Are you there?"

Frantically, Marge sets down the shirt she was folding, grabs the walkie talkie, rests it under her chin, and continues folding.

"Hello, Pony Whisperer?" Marge responds hopefully. She had figured if Lisa was calling, she had some information about Bart they could use.

Lisa detects this hint of enthusiasm, only making her feel worse about what she was going to say.

"Hi, Mom..." She sullenly replies. Marge squints.

"Lisa, you aren't using my code name. Is there a problem?" Marge asks.

For about 5 seconds, there isn't a sound. Lisa doesn't reply, mainly because she wasn't sure how to.

"Lisa? Honey, are you still there?" Marge asks. "Is this thing broken?" She begins to vigorously shake it up and down to find what the problem was. Of course, there wasn't any problem with the walkie talkie itself. "Lisaaaa? You're still there, right?"

Lisa lets out a long-winded sigh, and asks for the umpteenth time, "Mom... Are you _sure_ about this?"

Marge forms a slight scowl at Lisa's obduracy. "Lisa Marie Simpson! I'm used to you being somewhat obstinate at times, but I've had enough of you second guessing me. I'm your mother, and I'd appreciate it if you stopped asking me that! I'm sure! I'm sure! _I'm sure!_ Are you _happy?!_ "

Lisa's mouth drops open, greatly shocked by her mother's sudden outburst. It wasn't like Marge to let out all of her emotions at once like this, she usually held it back to keep things like _this_ from happening. (As she once said: "You're a woman, you can hold on to it forever.") But all this pent up fury had to come out sometime. Though, this was obviously not the best time for it to do so, as Marge immediately begins to regret what she had said.

Holding back tears, she replies, "Oh, Lisa... Honey, I'm so sorry... I-I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you..." She scratches her blue beehive. "It's just... I really wish you'd trust me more. Do you not trust me...?"

"No! Mom! That's not it at all!" Lisa says, instantly regretting questioning her mother like that. "Mom, you know I'd trust you with my life. But, I just... I feel like I shouldn't be doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Doing _this!_ I shouldn't be following Bart around school like this, it just isn't right."

"But Lisa, we're doing this for a good cause! I just want to help him."

"I know you do. I want to help him just as much as you do... But we shouldn't be going about it like this at all. If we really wanted to help Bart, we'd try and verbally communicate with him. Following him around and taking notes won't solve anything. It's so easy for things to be misinterpreted by just looking at someone for a few seconds. Think about how accurate our results would be if we just sat down with Bart and... Talked to him...?"

Marge doesn't respond for some seconds. She murmurs very quietly as she thinks to herself. "Mmmm..."

Lisa continues. "Mom, I know you mean well, but I'm sure there's a better way-"

Marge cuts in. "It's fine, Lisa, it's fine. You're definitely right... I guess I was being a bit pushy with this plan, huh? I shouldn't have to spy on my special little guy to know what he's going through. I guess I could try talking to him... That is, if he'll talk _back._ "

Lisa nods. "It's great to hear we're on the same page."

"I suppose we can get rid of these silly walkie talkies now, huh?" Marge says through a chuckle.

Lisa slyly smiles. "Now, hold on, Mom." She remarks. "Sure, your plan was pretty strange, but I don't think it was _completely_ fatuous."

Marge tilts her head, completely lost. "Eh?"

"What I'm trying to _say_ is that your original idea still has some potential to work." Lisa explains.

"But, Lisa! I thought we agreed we weren't spying on him anymo-"

"We aren't. I have something else in mind." Lisa says. "How about this: we _keep_ the walkie talkies, but I'm not following Bart around anymore. Maybe I can just... Inform you on what I notice." Lisa suggests.

"Mmm... Fair enough." Marge smiles. "I trust you, Lisa."

"I trust you too, Mom." Lisa responds. "Pony Whi- ... _Lisa,_ signing off."


	8. The Bart-Break Kid

Disclaimer - The rights to _The Simpsons_ and its characters belong to Matt Groening, the Fox Broadcasting Company, and any others associated with the show. No profit is being made from this fanfiction, this is all just for fun :)

 _ **So, before we start, I'd like to let you know that I also had to split this into its own chapter... Don't worry! This is the last time... Hopefully. As I said in the previous chapter, I've noticed this chapter would be excessively long if I kept it as one whole one, which I preferred not to do. So I guess you can think of these 3 chapters as a trilogy of some sort... Heh... Don't worry, you'll be thanking me later. ;)**_

 ** _Additional note, I wanted to give out a big thank you, because as of writing this, I've surpassed 1,000 READERS! (And I'm nearing 2,000!)_ _I can't believe it! Thank you so much for all your support and views! It means the world to me to know 1,000+ people have checked out my story. Whether you stayed for the rest or you left after the first sentence, I greatly appreciate your heed. Now... Enjoy the story! :)_**

 ** _(Also, this takes place during the same exact school day from last chapter.)_**

* * *

 **Chapter 8 - The Bart-Break Kid**

... And from there, the perusal continued.

Lisa only saw her brother so many times during the school day, which kept her from collecting very much information. Even if she no longer made it her main priority to stalk Bart down like her prey, she and her mother still believed looking out for him for clues didn't hurt.

Bart had returned to his mute state after coming back from "using the bathroom". It didn't take too long for his peers to get the message that he didn't want to be bothered, and chose to keep their distance, which only enhanced Bart's feeling of isolation.

Even some of the teachers spotted Bart's lack of energy. Classes seemed especially stodgy without Bart's wisecracks. With nothing to occupy them, many of his instructors found themselves falling asleep during the day or losing their trains of thought. Apparently, his discontent had found a way to take a toll on everybody around him!

The day seemed to go slower, and everyone who happened to be in the same room as Bart couldn't help but feel awkward as his contagious negativity dispersed like an irrigation sprinkler. Believe it or not, Bart _did_ act as the foundation of Springfield Elementary's buoyancy.

But enough exposition... Noon was nearing, which meant one thing: lunch period had commenced.

Each grade disseminated separately, starting with 1st grade, going on to 2nd, and so on till they had reached 5th. First, the three 1st grade classes exited their rooms and began walking in single-file lines led by their respective teachers. It was no surprise they were the most well-behaved grade in the school. Once they had entered the cafeteria, the second graders began following suit. Ms. Hoover reluctantly led her boisterous, erratic pupils.

"Class, please settle down..." She drones to the garrulous kids behind her. "The sooner you shut up, the sooner this'll all be over for the _both_ of us..."

Alas, the children continued to chatter among themselves as they scampered around like mice running towards cheese. No one was coordinated, one student was still a few inches from the door, and one was already in the gosh darn cafeteria. To think they had just recently grown out of walking ropes...

There was Lisa, who wasn't as organized as you'd think. The young girl was much too absorbed in her "Black Beauty" novel, which she had practically pressed against her nostrils, curbing her view of what was in front of her.

There were the other female students, such as Janey, Becky, and Wanda, who were conversing about things like ponies, hair barrettes, and how they planned to cunningly manipulate their daddy's into buying them the latest " _Malibu Stacy_ Brand Crusin' Convertible".

There were the few male students, who busied themselves by cracking the simplest of jokes at the expense of their female contemporaries.

And then there was Ralph... Who, believe it or not, hadn't even exited the classroom yet. He merely stood at the door from the inside, mindlessly walking in place, as if he was trying to go through it. While he did this, he wore a dopey grin on his face.

"Mmm! I can already smell the tater tots!" Ralph chimes. Ms. Hoover groans as she makes a detour to her classroom to open the door for the absent-minded student.

 _ **15 Minutes Later**_

At last, all the students had gotten into the cafeteria. It took much longer than it should have, but all that mattered was that they were in...

... And now it was time for the _3rd_ graders to go in.

Mrs. McConnell and the other 3rd grade teachers managed to quickly get their kids down the hall and into the lunchroom, which made the transition much easier.

Next up, were the 4th graders. Edna made sure to take charge of her class so things could get going a bit quicker.

"C'mon, class! C'mon! Chop-chop! I've got places to go and cigarettes to blow..." She hurries. "I want you all single-file, right now!"

A few students actually comply, as they attempt to order themselves in a single line. Sherri and Terri, however, were already ahead of the game, as the two walked perfectly coordinated with smug grins on their faces.

" _We're_ walking single-file, Mrs. Krabappel!" They sing simultaneously.

Edna smiles down at both girls. "Yes, indeed you are. Why can't you scamps be more like these two lovely girls?" Sherri and Terri flutter their eyelashes, while other students retch in disgust.

Edna continued to rush her students through the hallway. "Pick up the pace, would you? C'mon!" She chants. Eventually, the students started to walk in harmony and had grouped themselves together in a rather half-hearted line. Edna was willing to take what she could get at this point.

She nods her head as she examined each student. She murmurs small "good"'s and "mmhm"'s as she did so. Everything was looking fairly good, until she had reached the end, that is.

Bart stood at the back of the line. The only problem was, he had trouble keeping up with the other students and was a whole 4 meters behind them. This distance only increased as he groggily stumped in their trails.

"Bart! Pick up the pace!" Mrs. Krabappel booms. She lightly grabs onto Bart's shoulders and begins shoving him up in the line so he'd be with his fellow classmates. However, the second she let go of him, he straggled back to where he was previously. Edna gives him a stern glare from her peripheral vision.

" _Hmph... One day you're buzzing around the hallways like a chimp on methamphetamine, and then when I actually need you to move, you're as obstinate as a mule!_ " She says in her head.

After some more navigating through the halls, all the 4th grade classes found their way into the cafeteria. The 5th graders followed close behind. With the hallways now cleared, Skinner and Chalmers entered into one of them. They both stare at the double doors leading into the lunch room.

Skinner peers down at his watch. "The students just used a whole half of their lunch periods to get into that cafeteria...".

Chalmers adds, "Now the district _can't_ sue us for 'improperly feeding the students'."

"Well, they _can._ " Skinner corrects. "Just for a different reason."

* * *

Trays of wet sludge, cans of half-baked "mystery meat", colorless mush, and sentient meatloaf...

These were all the things the students at Springfield Elementary _wished_ they could have for lunch.

Each student slid their biscotti-colored trays down the lunch line's metal rails, as they wait for Lunchlady Doris to ask about their lunch choice.

Many students decided to play it safe by simply taking a carton of milk with a small side, but that's only if you're feeling adventurous.

Doris spoons a pile of "mashed potatoes" (heed the quotes) onto one student's tray, who frowns morosely.

"Next!" Doris exclaims. Lisa, who was next in line, moves her tray forward.

"Just a side salad, please." Lisa answers.

Doris responds by dumping a handful of brown, withered leaves onto her tray. Lisa squints.

"These are just the leaves from the school courtyard..." She states.

"Your point?"

"Well... I just thought you'd give me a real salad."

"A real salad? What is this, private school? Suck it up, kid."

Lisa grimaces. "I hope you realize how callous you're being right now..."

Doris carelessly pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a match. "Sweetie, if you've got a problem with it, take it up with the complaints department." She dryly replies, as she sticks her lit cigarette in her mouth.

"Ok... Might I ask where that is?" Lisa queries.

"Take a right from outside the cafeteria, go 2 hallways down, and it should be on your left."

Lisa gives her a tepid, unenthusiastic glare. "That's the way to the bathrooms, isn't it?"

Doris smugly grins, while Lisa sighs in defeat. She walks away to find a lunch table.

"Next!" Doris repeats. The next student in line was the crestfallen spike-head himself. He glumly faced his tray, as he slowly made his way up to Doris, which held up the entire line.

"C'mon, kid, I don't got all day, y'know?" Doris complains. Bart eventually reaches her. "What'll it be, toots?"

Bart shrugs morosely.

"You don't _know?_ " She says, as that is what she had gotten from that gesture. "Hmm.. How about some of the chicken giblets? Fresh out the school's heating vents!"

Bart doesn't give a response.

"Or, if you're not in the mood for meat, you can try the meatloaf!" She suggests. Bart still doesn't say a word back, and Doris begins to get frustrated.

"Oh, is that how it's gonna be?" She questions, anger was apparent in her tone. "Well, _fine._ If you aren't gonna cooperate, neither will I." The lunchlady scoops up a slimy pile of coleslaw with her ladle and drops it smack dab on Bart's tray. Bits of it splash onto Bart's face and his shirt.

"Enjoy your lunch, you little punk..." She growls through gritted teeth. Without a sound, Bart exits the line to find a table, taking lento strides as he did.

The lunchroom was crowded with just about every kid in the school, and any fool knows a room harboring tens of hundreds of children is a living, breathing danger zone. Half the kids weren't even in their seats, and many of them didn't seem to understand that food belonged in their stomachs, _not_ on their peers and themselves.

All of this commotion definitely affected the people around them. To specify, Bart.

2 students, who had been inattentively running every which way around the place, ending up swiftly brushing right past Bart, causing the poor kid to stumble over and drop his tray right on the ground, now making his substandard lunch completely inedible. (As if it wasn't inedible enough prior to the fall.)

Bart is quick to recover from this fumble, however. He sighs and gets up barehanded. He looks for a place to sit down, but every space seemed to be filled. Well... _Almost_ every space, that is.

He didn't want to accept it, but there was still one place left to sit, and he walks right there with evident reluctance. He would rather be anywhere else, but at this point, there were no other options. Across from him at an empty table sat the albino skinned 10-year old, Wendell Borton. Sitting too close could risk a face full of puke, so Bart chose to stay out of the splash zone by sitting as far away from him as possible.

Wendell nearly drops his tuna fish sandwich at the sight of his now-taciturn classmate. "Bart Simpson? You're sitting at _my_ table?"

Bart ignores him, knowing heeding Wendell would only worsen the situation. Either way, Wendell continues.

"Wow! I-I can't believe this!" He fawns. "No one ever sits at this table, but to think _Bart Simpson_ of all people would take the time to-" He stops midway, and begins slowly clutching onto his whining stomach. He squeals out a high-pitched moan.

"Ohhhh..." He groans. "I think that tuna sandwich I had is fighting with my 'Malk'..." Suddenly, his cheeks fill up and he clasps onto his mouth. Wendell quickly ducks underneath the table and begins vomiting to his heart's content. Bart can only groan as he hears the detailed retches and gags escaping from the boy's mouth. This _had_ to be somewhere on his "top 10 most uncomfortable situations list".

Lisa gets a glance at what was going on at Wendell and Bart's table. She sorrowfully stares at her miserable sibling from her own lunch table. The worst part was, she couldn't help him. At least, not now.

" _Poor Bart..._ " She sighs. " _I just wish there was some way I could-_ "

Her thoughts are interrupted by a familiar voice approaching her. "Hiiiii, Lisa!" It rings.

Lisa faces towards where the voice was coming from, only to see Sherri and Terri nearing her with cheeky grins slapped onto their faces.

Lisa cringes hard. " _Oh, joy... Here come Tweedledee and Tweedledum..._ "

After a few more seconds, the two twins stood about a foot away from Lisa, who wore an unamused glower.

"Hey, dorkwad!" Terri greets. "What are you reading _this_ time? 50 Shades of _Lame?_ " Both girls crack up at the halfhearted joke.

"What do you two brats want?" Lisa asks impatiently. "Homework answers? Just take 'em and leave..."

"We don't want answers to homework, Lisa." Sherri says. "But we _do_ want answers to something else."

"What are you talking about?" Lisa questions.

"We were just wonderin' why your brother's being such a freakazoid today..." Sherri asks, as she nudges her eyes towards the Bart.

"Yeah! He's been moping around all day, and it's not even because of _us!_ What gives?" Terri adds.

Lisa replies. "First of all, I'd prefer it if you didn't refer to my brother as a 'freakazoid'. Second, heck if _I_ know. I've been trying to figure it out all day, but he's just so hard to read! Usually Bart's as transparent as glass, but trying to find out what's going on with him is like cracking some kind of secret code, or like-"

"You know why _I_ think Bart's so ticked, Terri?" Sherri asks, cutting an annoyed Lisa off.

"Why?" Terri asks.

"Call me crazy, but I bet it's got something to do with his _girlfriend_ leaving him for that baby of her's!" Sherri says, which prompts the two girls to squeal and giggle like schoolgirls. (Mainly because, well, they _were_ school girls.)

Now Lisa was even more puzzled. "Girlfriend? What are you talking about?" Lisa interrogates.

"Nooothiiing!" The two girls sing in unison, as they walk away, continuing to laugh.

Lisa stares at the two blankly as they leave, still very perplexed. However, she chose to simply pass this off as usual Sherri and Terri nonsense. She disregarded their comments and chose to focus on the matter at hand: Bart.

...

"Ok, children, play nice now!" Skinner announces. Now that lunch had terminated, the students excitedly scatter out onto the school's playground for recess. With such a variety to do, every student managed to busy themselves with something.

Some students swung back and forth on the swing sets, while others chose to slither down the slides. Some of the more athletic children played games like "H-O-R-S-E" on the nearby basketball courts, and some climbed and crawled on the jungle gym and monkey bars. Sherri and Terri bounced up and down on the see-saw, which greatly irritated some of the other students who had been waiting for _their_ turns. (It _was_ the only see-saw on the grounds, after all.) The bullies were having a ball playing tetherball, though most of that joy was gained from tying the school's notorious braniacs to the pole as they squirmed and whimpered with severe apprehension. Other students didn't even choose a specific piece of equipment to play on, and rather ran around the free ground doing things such as playing tag, red light, green light, and patty cake. With so much to do, there's no way a student could possibly feel left out... Or... So one would think.

It was funny, Bart was usually the life of the party when it came to recess. It was hard to miss him when he was spinning like a top on the roundabout or making full circles on the swings, but for once, he didn't move a muscle. In stead, he had stationed himself on one of the 3 benches bordering the school's tree (which had changed to an orange color, due to the current season), a moping and sulking mess. He felt rejected, left out, but he couldn't forget that this was _his_ decision.

He had trouble hearing the laughs of his happy classmates, as he was too absorbed in his thoughts and his dolor muffled the noise around him.

Miss Hoover and Mrs. Krabappel stood by the school building and monitored their students. Both of them casually smoked.

Edna takes her eyes off the students for a few seconds, and the second she does so she scowls and faces back at the playground.

"Bart Simpson, you get down from the top of that swing set this _instant!_ " She commands "You'll fall and it'll be _my_ fault somehow..."

"Edna, what in god's name are you talking about?" Ms. Hoover questions. "Bart Simpson isn't on top of the swing set."

"He isn't?" Krabappel looks back at the swing set. It was Bart-free. "Oh... Well then, he must be spraying graffiti on school property!"

Ms. Hoover peers at a nearby wall, it was blank. "Nope, doesn't look like it..."

"That's strange..." Krabappel comments, noticing the blank wall as well. "Then... What _is_ he doing?"

Elizabeth points at Bart. "He seems to just be sitting on that bench there, minding his own business, I suppose."

"Hm... I guess he is." She says. "I don't know what's gotten into that kid, it's like he's been deprived of something he's always needed..."

The two of them are quiet for a few more seconds, as they try to figure out what that might be.

"... Like... Sugar?" Hoover guesses.

"Yup, definitely sugar." The two resume their smoking.

Unbeknownst to Bart, Lisa was sitting close by. (More specifically, directly under the tree he was sitting near, except she wasn't on one of the benches, but rather on the grass.) She still had her book in her hands, but her eyes didn't seem to be fixed on the pages, but rather glanced over at Bart.

" _I wonder if it was right of me to snub past_ _what Sherri and Terri told me at lunch..._ " Lisa asks herself internally. " _I mean, they'd have to have some kind of reason for saying that, it's not like they'd just come up with such an outlandish theory out of the blue like that, it definitely could work as evidence... But would I ever stoop so_ _low?_ "

Lisa takes her eyes off Bart to look at the two twins on the playground, still holding up the line for the see-saw.

" _It'd be wrong of me to just ignore them, they could be trying to help_ me." She continued " _I guess I shouldn't have brushed them off like that... Even if they **a** **re** terribly rotten girls... That persistently ostracize me... And who've never had all that much respect for me either..._" Lisa scrunches her nose up with aversion, now that she had put it all into words, she quickly changed her mind. " _Hmph... Forget it. Not like they'd be much help anyways._ "

Trifling, yes, but Lisa didn't want anything to do with those two anymore. She'd let them push her around for too long, and this was the last straw. The last thing she needed was those two intervening in this already sensitive operation.

" _Besides, I could easily do this by myself. I've tangled with much more impenetrable puzzles without the help of anyone. All it takes is some simple contextualization, quick inferring, and shrewd deductive reasoning. Now, let's see..._ "

After setting her book down, Lisa rummages through her seaweed colored backpack for something she had been working on throughout the entire day. Once it was in her grasp, she pulls her hand out, along with a large, rolled-up sheet of paper. Unraveling said paper revealed a meticulously crafted diagram titled " _POSSIBLE CAUSES FOR BART'S MISBEHAVIOR AS OF LATE_ ". The diagram, which was based off extensive hours of close observation, resembled that of a tree map, containing several strands of outcomes to possible prior situations leading to said outcome. It was a chain of events of sorts, Lisa would write down something she had seen Bart do, along with potential reasons for this, which would then lead into reasons for _that..._ It was far from rudimentary, but trust me, it was bound to get her somewhere.

Lisa gnaws at the #2 pencil betwixt her flaxen fingers, as she closely reviews her sheet.

" _Ok... So first we start with our question, 'Why Could Bart Be Doing This?'. Which takes us to our first point: Maybe he could no longer take the goading from his peers for his newfound gift. That would also explain why he acted so cold towards me after I mentioned art... Hmm.. But that would greatly conflict with my other reasoning, which states that this is all just an artistic form of expression that I don't quite understand at the moment... Then that would mean he'd **have** to still like art..._" She removes the pencil from her mouth and rather taps her chin with it.

" _Hmm... I guess losing a few things wouldn't hurt._ " She erases some parts of the diagram that didn't make too much sense to her. She squints.

" _No, no, wait. Now_ ** _this_** _doesn't make any sense. I'd have to add an entirely new part..._ " She quickly does a few more modifications. " _So if I put this here, that there, and remove that completely, it would mean... Wait, no... I guess that wouldn't make much sense either, would it?_ " She cringes at the cluttered mess her diagram had become. All that hard work hastily dwindled out of sight.

" _Jeez, this is a lot harder than I thought it would be._ " She murmurs, as she rolls the paper up once more and places it back into her bookbag.

" _You're just making this complicated for yourself again, Lisa. Mom and I both agreed that we weren't going to make a fuss about this anymore. Heck, **I** was the one who suggested it in the first place, how hypocritical of me to go against my own words!_" She sighs, and looks back at her brother, who still sat impassively on the bench.

" _He just looks so sad... It's one thing to see Bart get irked at my playful teasing, but seeing him go on with his day in such a depressive state is almost unbearable. All of my findings proved to be nothing but wasted space, I have nothing to inform Mom on, and I'm getting nowhere with this! Maybe we should've just stuck to that silly 'walkie-talkie' idea... At least that actually took us somewhere..._ "

She silently stares at Bart for a few more seconds before resuming her internal dialogue.

" _What's stopping me from talking to him? The worst he can do is ignore me. But even if I were to work up the courage to approach him... What would I say? Come on, Lisa, you're a good speaker... And this is your brother for god's sake! Why am I making this so hard?!_ " She groans with frustration. She could barely fathom why she was having so much difficulty with something she found herself doing on a daily basis.

After cooling off, she lets out a short sigh and shifts her body so it was facing directly towards the back of Bart. (She had chosen not to stand up.)

She gulps, and slowly, she reaches her hand towards his shoulder. She hadn't come into physical contact with it yet. "Um... Bar-"

 _ **BAM!**_

Before she could conclude, Lisa is interrupted by a rubber ball sharply bashing Bart in the back of the head. The immense amount of force exerted made it seem as if it was coming from miles away, and Bart nearly topples right out of his place. However, he doesn't fall, but his head still lunges forward forcefully. Lisa can only gasp in astonishment.

The ball came from a not-so-shocking source, Nelson's two weasels. Not surprising, but what _was_ surprising was that this was not intentional. To give some background:

 _ **A Few Seconds Ago...**_

The two weasels stood by the chain-link fence that surrounded Springfield Elementary's playground. The part of the fence they resided at happened to be just a few feet away from the tree and benches the Simpson kids were by.

Both weasels had been throwing a red rubber ball back and forth at each other, with about a 20 feet distance separating them.

Yellow Weasel carelessly chucks the ball at his doppelganger. "Pretty sweet throw, huh?" He boasts.

The darker-skinned weasel clutches the ball in his hands. "I guess... But eat _this!_ " He flings it back with much more force. Yellow Weasel feels himself getting pushed back a bit when it enters his grasp.

"Woah! That was pretty rad, man!" He admits. "Heads up!" He pitches the ball back at Black Weasel, who successfully catches it.

"Ain't you's glad we snagged this ball from that 1st grader! He didn't even put up a fight or nothin'"! Black Weasel snickers, as he tosses the ball back.

"You're tellin' me! We should pick on younger kids more often!" Yellow Weasel responds. Black Weasel nods in agreement, right before catching the ball his friend had cast at him.

"Hey! Get ready for my best throw yet!" Black Weasel apprises. He squeezes the ball menacingly in between his palms.

"Bring it on!" Yellow Weasel challenges, spacing his legs out and holding his hands in front of him to prepare.

After a few more seconds of rather inessential preparation, he lunges the ball backwards with haste in order to build up momentum, right before hurling it straight at Yellow Weasel. The ball must have been travelling at the speed of light, because by the time he reached up to catch it, the ball was long gone. It just kept flying and flying and flying until it found something to stop it in its tracks. Of all things, it chose Bart to fill that role.

 _Which takes us back to our present time..._

The two stare with gaped mouths, and both get positively pale in the face. The fact that they hit someone did not bother them, but rather _who_ they had hit is what caused them to freeze.

If those two knew one thing about Bart Simpson, it was that he was a force to be reckoned with. They didn't let his short stature and squeaky voice fool them, as they knew that messing with Bart could only end pain, humiliation, soaked clothes, or all of the above. They had made that mistake one too many times.

They just knew Bart had something up his sleeve, and couldn't bear to face it. Even if it _was_ an accident, Bart wouldn't care. He'd probably make the beating twice as bad for thinking he would. They had no idea what was building up in that head of his, but one thing they did know was that only a madman would be willing to be the first to face it.

"No way I'm getting it back!" Black Weasel asserts. "You get it!"

" _You_ were the one who threw it at him, doofus! You should get it!" Yellow Weasel claims with a sharp nudge.

"I'm not getting anywhere near that psycho!"

"Well, neither am I!"

"Fine then. We'll settle this like men."

The two pull out their hands and form fists. They begin shaking their respective hands up and down.

"Rock, paper, scissors... Shoot!" Black Weasel throws scissors, Yellow Weasel throws paper.

"Best 2 out of 3!" He blurts. They do this once more. "Rock, paper, scissors... Shoot!" They both throw rock. They play again.

"Rock, paper, scissors... Shoot!" They both throw paper. They play another time.

"Rock, paper, scissors... Shoot!" If it wasn't obvious at this point, they both play scissors.

While these two were bickering over who had to retrieve the ball, Lisa apprehensively checked her unresponsive brother for any signs of cuts, bruises, or consciousness.

"Bart? Bart?" She repeats, as her hands anxiously travel up and down his skull. "Are you ok? Are you hurt? Should I get Ms. Phipps?! Please say something so I know you're ok!"

Lisa turns Bart's head towards her and gets a good look at his face. Oddly, it hadn't changed. He still wore the same stony, deadpan expression and didn't utter a word. Based on his appearance, Lisa wouldn't have been too surprised if Bart never noticed that he had been hit with a ball in the first place.

"Erm... That works too, I guess..." She mutters.

We cut back to the two bullies.

"Fine, it's settled." Yellow Weasel says. "We'll _both_ go and get the stupid ball back."

"Sounds good to me." Black Weasel says.

The two 2nd graders make their way towards the spike-headed maverick, trepidation apparent in their faces. Lisa continues to examine Bart in the same manner that a doctor would. He looked content (or as content as you could get him) but she still couldn't be very sure.

She presses half of her fingers onto his wrist. "Your pulse seems fine, there are no signs of bleeding, internal _or_ external... Just to be safe, I'll get you the bag of ice Mom keeps in my lunchbag."

Lisa bends down to reach into her bookbag. She removes her brown paper lunch bag and sticks her hand inside to pick up a frigid baggie storing about 7 large ice cubes. She was just about to give it to her brother, until she spotted the dastardly duo of bullies approaching them both. Her first assumption was that they were trying to start trouble.

"Oh no! Not those two!" She gasps fretfully. Without thinking, she drops her baggie onto the grass and runs away to hide behind a nearby tree. She made sure to discreetly peek to see what they were going to do.

Little did she know, they weren't there to bully her or her brother. If anything, they intended to do the opposite.

They both purposely lagged behind, still afraid of what was about to happen. Bart faced away from them, which only heightened their anxiety.

Once they were a few feet from the solemn boy, they began to nudge at each other forcefully so one of them would grow a pair and get his attention. Black Weasel decided it was only fair he took up this task.

"Erm... Hey, Bart!" He squeaks. This catches Bart's attention and he leisurely turns to face them. They flinch, but are somewhat perplexed to see he isn't boiling with rage like they had so uneasily expected.

"Just so you know, we's didn't mean for that ball to hit ya like that!" Yellow Weasel squirms. "How's about we three look past _all_ of this and continue mindin' or own business?" He suggests.

Black Weasel shakily nods. "Yeah, what he said!" They both form faux toothy smiles.

Lisa squints from where she stood. " _That's odd... It doesn't look like they're trying to bully him. In fact, it almost sounds like they're sorry._ "

The weasels continue to stare at Bart, shivering as they prepared for whatever ghastly punishment he had contrived.

They both wait a few more seconds, expecting some kind of outraged outburst or surprise tackle (like when Yellow Weasel demolished his sister's cupcakes.), but he just sits there.

"Hey, wait a minute..." Black Weasel begins. "He isn't doin' nothing!"

"Can he even hear us?" Yellow Weasel questions. He begins to wave his hand in front of Bart's half-closed eyes. "Hel-lo? Earth to you!"

When he still doesn't respond, they both grin devilishly.

"Heh! Look at him! He's just... Sittin'!" Yellow Weasel snickers. "Y'know, we could use that to our advantage..."

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Black Weasel queries. Yellow Weasel looks at him with a look that screamed, "revenge".

Yellow Weasel picks up the ball and fires it straight at Bart's head with all his might. Lisa gasps once again.

"That's for pinnin' me down to the floor that one time!" Yellow Weasel growls. The ball bounces off Bart's head and into Black Weasel's hands.

"And this is for coverin' Nelson in those water balloons!" He hits Bart once again, who just took the beating without any signs of opposition.

Lisa could feel herself about to cry. How heartless does one have to be to use someone's depression as a means to harass them? The sight was appalling, to say the least, that is. She began to flashback to the time Bart defended her from those weasels after they stole her cupcakes. She realized it was now her turn to take a stand. She stopped hiding and began to march right up to them with her head held high.

The two were still bashing Bart with their ball.

"And _that's_ for makin' Nelson bleed!" Yellow Weasel adds. They both cackle when it strikes Bart.

Black Weasel picks up the ball. "And this is for-"

"Hey! You two!" Lisa blurts, accusingly pointing her finger at them. They glare at her with shock. "Yeah, I'm talkin' to you two!"

"Hey, look! It's his whiny sister!" Yellow Weasel comments. "Whaddya you want?"

"I want you to quit doing that and leave my brother alone!" She demands.

"And why should we?" Black Weasel asks, hitting Bart once more.

"Not only is it preposterously cruel to pick on someone who wasn't bothering you in the first place, it's also quite timorous to beat on someone who isn't willing to put up a fight. I'd think that you two self-proclaimed 'bullies' would be brave enough to mess with someone who'd actually fight back..."

They both roll their eyes, barely understanding what she had just said. They ignore her and continue to hurl the ball at Bart.

Lisa's scowl only gets meaner. "I said stop it! Right now! Or I'll-"

"You'll what, poindexter?" Black Weasel asks. "Whine to your _daddy?_ ". The two guffaw.

She tries her best to ignore their rude remarks. "I-I'll tell Ms. Hoover!" She mewls, on the verge of tears.

They don't respond and stare at her sternly, even taking a break from flinging the ball. This stare down continues for a few more seconds before Lisa interrupts it.

"Well? You want me to tell or not?" She questions loudly.

The weasels look back at Bart, who maintained his impassive expression the entire time.

"Pbbt... It's no fun anymore, anyways... He isn't cryin' or screamin'!" Yellow Weasel says.

"Yeah, let's bail." Black Weasel suggests. He carelessly drops the ball on the floor and walks away with his partner. Lisa stares them down as they leave.

" _Hmph... That'll teach 'em._ " She mumbles. Nearly forgetting about her brother, she runs up to him and clutches onto him tightly.

"Bart, I'm so sorry." She sighs. "Are you-"

Just then, a blaring whistle is heard. It was Mrs. Krabappel.

"Alright, kids! Recess is over, let's head on back inside before I regret this job even more than I already do..." She drones.

Each student hurriedly lines up by their teacher. Bart stands up and laggardly joins his class in line. Lisa watches him go off and sighs hopelessly. She lines up with her class as well.

* * *

Hours went by, and Lisa still couldn't get her brother to speak. She only saw him a few more times following the recess mishap, and each time she attempted to speak to him, she found herself getting interrupted by something or someone, or getting completely ignored. Her emotions rapidly fluctuated, going from feeling pity for her older brother to feeling frustration from his obstinacy, and then almost immediately going back to pity.

Currently, every student in the building was in their final period: the most relieving, yet stressful part of every day.

Mrs. Krabappel's fourth grade class watched her busy herself at the front of the classroom, and for once, everyone seemed to share Bart's blasé expression.

Like always, Mrs. Krabappel's speech sounded like nothing but the mindless " _wah-wah_ " trombone sounds from Charlie Brown's teacher to Bart. It wasn't until she caught Bart's attention that his mind stopped wandering.

"... Bart?" She turns around to face him. The whole class brings their attention to him as well.

He blinks hard and looks at her. "Yes?" He mumbles monotonously.

She places her hands on her hips. "Are you sure something isn't the matter? Just a few seconds ago, I said 'diphthong' and you were the only person not to laugh their tiny little head off. Well, you and Martin, but the latter was to be expected. Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

Bart had no intentions of telling his teacher what was bothering him, and all the nosy eyes on him weren't very encouraging either. The room was dead silent, all this attention just angered him. So before he let out another unwanted outburst, he tensely murmurs, "I need to be excused."

Edna makes a face. "Uh... Sure." She says in a rather hesitant tone.

Bart leaves his seat and walks past the many desks to get out of the class. His footsteps were clearly audible, what with the complete stillness in the room. Everybody's eyes moved wherever Bart went, and he just wanted to scream at them to mind their own goddamn business more than anything, but he couldn't let his temper get the best of him, not now.

Once he finally got out of the classroom, he quickly went to a place where he could find complete and utter solitude: anywhere _but_ there. Or in other words, outside.

 _ **Meanwhile, in the class of Elizabeth Hoover...**_

"So, class," Hoover starts, writing a simplified version of what she is about to say onto the juniper chalkboard. "chameleons change the color of their skin _not_ to blend in, but rather to regulate body temperature or express mood... As Lisa Simpson _kindly_ interjected..." She says the last sentence with a hint of indignation.

After finishing what she had written, Elizabeth set her minuscule piece of chalk on the board's ledge.

"Now, before we go on with our lesson, who would like to go outside behind the school and water the class plant?" She asks.

The moment she concludes her question, every single hand in the class shot up earnestly.

"Let me re-phrase that: who would like to go outside behind the school and water the class plant, with _out_ spending an extra 10 minutes on the playground equipment?" Unsurprisingly, this left only two hands still going strong, Ralph and Lisa.

"Ralph, put your hand down." Ms. Hoover orders. "Last time I let you water the class plant, you found a way to catch it on fire and we had to get a new one."

"But, Ms. Hoover! I wanna water the pet ostrich!" He whines.

" _Orchids,_ Ralph." Lisa politely corrects in a whisper.

Ms. Hoover had almost forgotten about Lisa. "Ah, Lisa. How about you? I trust you not to doddle, and I know you'll do it correctly." Ms. Hoover reaches under her large rectangular desk to retrieve a rusted, metal watering can, which she then hands to Lisa. "Now that I think about it... Why haven't I called on you before?"

"Because every time I raise my hand for it, you think I'm about to rectify one of your previous statements." Lisa explains. "But since I've already gotten my correction out, it must have skipped your mind, which allowed you to finally-"

Ms. Hoover interrupts, "No one likes a know-it-all, Lisa. Just water the damn plant..."

...

Lisa had made it outside, watering can still in hand. Its metal clanked over and over as it swung back and forth in her hands. If she had not been careful, some of its contents could have easily sloshed out, but this is Lisa we're talking about. She couldn't be careless if she knelt down, clasped her hands together, and begged.

The whole idea of a class plant was proposed by none other than Lisa herself. Since they were nearing their plant unit in science class, Lisa had suggested to Ms. Hoover personally that they keep track of a plant throughout the course of the unit so by the end, they can compare its current appearance to its initial one. Lisa had always wanted to experiment with plant growth, but keeping it at her own house was a big risk she wasn't ready to take. This was the only way her dream could be fulfilled. It also helped that Lisa was the only student in the class who showed genuine interest in the plant, so she didn't have to worry about anything happening to it. (At least, anything happening to it _again._ Need I bring up the Ralph Wiggum incident once more?)

Since Springfield Elementary's ventilation system was terribly subpar and its overall atmosphere even worse, the only place where she didn't have to worry about it wilting was outside. The school was already on a rather low budget and they weren't going to spend half of it on some flower, so only a small plastic pot, soil, and a few seeds were provided, so Lisa made do, and she did it well.

The plant had been placed nearby Groundskeeper Willie's rundown shack. This choice of venue was smart, believe it or not, seeing as it gave the plant free land to occupy. Other than the shed itself, the area was mostly grass. It was able to receive enough sunlight without the shack blocking it, too, which is why Lisa thought this would be the best place.

When Lisa arrives, she takes a quick moment to admire the hard work she had put into making her plant look phenomenal.

As per mentioned, she was not supplied with very many things to work with, so she took it upon herself to buy some things that would hopefully turn it from drab to fab. First, she purchased a medium-sized terracotta pot. She thought its marmalade color would blend well with the orchid's fuchsia tone. Bart had helped her paint the pot a few weeks back, using thin strokes of white in a wavy motion. Bart wasn't used to working in such a delicate manner, but it taught him to be more patient with himself. She wanted to make the plant feel more "at home", so Lisa got a few things to keep it company, such as a small Buddha statue, a glass unicorn figure, and a doll of Bubbles from _The Happy Little Elves._ Lastly, she had tied a white ribbon around the pot so it didn't feel so naked. Being a huge eco-activist, Lisa treasured the life of a plant, and treated one as if it was her own life.

She kneels down and begins pouring out the water from her watering can onto the beautifully blooming orchids.

"Hi, Gaia." Lisa smiles. "Gaia" was the name she had given the plant. "You've been growing so well! I just knew switching you from tap water to distilled would make a big difference. Rumor has it that it's 'killing the environment' and 'initiating global warming', but I'm certain that's nothing but press nonsense to get people's attention... Now, drink up!"

She continues pouring until the final remnants of water had found their way into the roots.

"Mmmm, delicious isn't it?" Lisa states. "It's much easier feeding something that won't spit up on you afterwards." She adds, in reference to how difficult it could be to feed Maggie. "Anyways, I better head back to class. The day's about to end and I wanna get in a few more minutes of education while I can. I'll see you tomorrow!"

Lisa lifts herself up and cleans the dirt that had gotten on her knees from kneeling on the grass. She begins to turn back, but something catches her eye that makes her freeze.

"Is that..." She mumbles, squinting her eyes tightly. She reopens them widely and gasps. "Bart!"

Indeed, Bart was unknowingly approaching his younger sister. He thought nearby Willie's shed would be a good place to find some seclusion. After all, no one dared to come anywhere near that shed, at the fear of the unhinged groundskeeper surprising them with his jagged rake. Luckily, he wasn't in there. Probably busy in the janitor's closet...

While Bart tediously staggers, his back hunched over like a zombie, Lisa begins to shake with apprehension. I mean, what would _you_ do if you saw your now reclusive sibling lurching towards you, with a subdued look that almost mirrored that of Boo Radley's? Would you approach them boldly with your chest pushed out and chin held high, or mimic Lisa, whose first instinct was to hide behind Willie's shack and hug her back onto its splintered wood planks and rusted nails? The choice is yours.

By the time she found her hiding spot, Bart was still a bit far from the shack. She used this free time to get some of her panting out.

" _That... Was close..._ " She puffs in between heavy breaths. Once she's caught it all in, Lisa grasps onto her forehead, allowing a few of her fingers to slip through her blonde locks. " _Oh, Lisa, what has gotten into you? When did you become so scared of your brother? I shouldn't be running away from him... I should be trying to communicate with him, but it seems like every time I try and do that, the world stops me for some reason. It's almost as if fate is preventing me from doing this! Good going, fate..._ "

His footsteps heighten in volume, signaling that he wasn't too far from her. She abruptly shuts up and holds her breath.

For some seconds, she no longer hears his steps. They resume once more, only getting closer and closer. She worries if he had found her.

This turned out to not be the case. He wasn't nearing Lisa, but he had rather stationed himself at the side directly opposite of Lisa's spot. He slides his back down the shed's wall, allowing the back of his shirt to get pricked from the loose edges of the house, and lands on his bottom, as he sits down with his legs tightly fastened together. At this moment, Bart's somber, straight faced expression gradually becomes a much more saddened, despondent frown, he now showed actual emotion.

For a full two minutes, he doesn't say a word, and neither does Lisa. Bart had seemed to have planted himself in a spot that he had no intentions of leaving very soon, and Lisa was beginning to get impatient, and didn't think she could keep this cover up for much longer.

" _What in the world is he doing over there? Is he asleep?_ " She questions in her head. She tries to get a look at him without blowing her cover, and only manages to see part of the back of him. " _I better take this opportunity to slip away while I can. I can't bear the thought of being late back to class and Ms. Hoover losing her trust in me._ "

She takes one last look at Bart. It didn't look like he was planning on moving anytime soon. Carefully, she shifts from her place, still hugged onto the wall. It takes nearly an entire minute to actually come out from behind the shed. Once she's out, she gingerly tip-toes away, each step taking a century to complete. She was barely five feet away when she overhears a hushed whisper from Bart. At this point, his voice sounded almost alien to her.

"I miss her..."


	9. Without You

Disclaimer - The rights to _The Simpsons_ and its characters belong to Matt Groening, the Fox Broadcasting Company, and any others associated with the show. No profit is being made from this fanfiction, this is all just for fun :)

 _ **Oh jeez... It's been too long! I know I apologized in my April update, but I want to apologize a second time because, once again, this was not fair to any of you. I know I promised a chapter in May, but unfortunately, I couldn't live up to it. I figured that after final testing, my workload would be at least somewhat decreased, but NOPE! (It almost seemed like I received even **__**more**_ _ **work after my tests...) But after nearly a half-year wait, I've come back with a new chapter! So sorry...**_

 _ **I really want to pump out some new chapters for this story for 2 reasons: 1. I've kept you all waiting too long and I want to get somewhere in this story this summer, and 2. I really want to go back to focusing on my Bob's Burgers fanfiction and I don't think it'd be fair to the readers of this one if I just swapped back to that in the middle of this. (Which, if you happen to read that fanfic as well, will most definitely be continued... Don't worry...) I want to at least get to the halfway mark of this story before going back to "Bob to the Future", because I have so many new ideas for that story that I want to actually get on paper before season 9 comes on TV this fall.**_

 _ **But getting back on topic, I'm back! Sorry again for the cliffhanger last chapter. I also want to apologize if this chapter seems a bit clunky, since it's been written between such long intervals. (I started writing it in late January, I believe, and didn't finish it up till late June, so... Haha... Yeah...) It's been so long, so trying to write it again after all those months was so painfully difficult. Hopefully, it's still up to par with the previous chapters. Anyways... (try to) Enjoy!**_

* * *

 **Chapter 9 - Without You**

"I miss her..."

What? Did she hear him right?

Lisa instantaneously freezes in place. For a few seconds, she had to actually stop and wonder what that noise was. It wasn't as if she couldn't recognize Bart's voice, but more that she couldn't _believe_ it was Bart's voice, and it wasn't just Bart's voice, it was Bart's real voice. A voice that wasn't drowned out by sighing or groaning, a voice that she could hear without having to get close towards him, a voice that showed an almost excessive amount of emotion, a voice that reminded her that Bart was still human.

" _He... Misses her...?_ " She asks in her head. At this moment, getting back to her class became the least of her worries, she had to see where this was going. Lisa backs up to the shed once more, as if a magnet was pulling her towards there. Patiently, she awaited to hear what was coming next.

Bart sure took his time about it, but eventually he recommenced his monologue.

"I miss her... I miss her so much..." Bart whimpers. "But... She's never coming back, so what's the point? What's the point in holding on if there's nothing left to hold on to?"

Bart did not usually like to look too deep into his thoughts and feelings, he had always seen it as, how he'd put it, "girlish". But he couldn't hold his emotions back anymore. He had done so the whole week, and it had only brought him more misery. It was difficult to come to terms with, especially at such a young age, but there were some problems that couldn't just be swept under the rug like the messes Marge ordered him to clean in his bedroom. There were certain issues that could only be eliminated by being resolved, and this was one of those issues. He realized that the only way to feel the least bit better was to admit that he wasn't ok, and before he could admit that to anybody else, he had to admit it to himself.

"It's done, she's gone, and she _isn't_ coming back. Just admit it and you'll feel better." He states firmly. He attempted to form a serious appearance, but his face refused to comply. He stopped trying and returned to his hopeless expression. "But... I don't want to admit it..."

He could feel tears coming on, so Bart quickly sniffed them back. If he went back to class with red in his eyes, no one would leave him alone about it.

"I just... I just miss her so much..." He sighs dejectedly. "I wish she never had to go away..."

The more he spoke, the more addled Lisa became. She'd gain a new question every other second, and before she can even come close to answering one, a new one would arise almost immediately. She began to feel more and more worried, and just couldn't piece any of this together. She still didn't even know who this "her" was. She felt like she had been given millions of puzzle pieces, but even after combining them all together, she still could not create a coherent image.

"Listen to yourself, Bart. This isn't like you, man... You sound like _Lisa,_ which is the last person you'd want to sound like." He tells himself.

Lisa makes an angry pout. " _Hey..._ " She mutters unhappily.

"I want to forget about it, but I can't, I just _can't!_ Why do I even care? It's not like it's money or some cool video game, it's just some teacher..."

"... Some teacher who actually encouraged me... Some teacher who never lost her patience with me... Some teacher who... Believed in me..."

And just then, it hit them _both_ like a ton of bricks.

Lisa's mouth was gaped wide open, as she gasps in astonishment. "Oh my god!" She exclaims a bit too loudly. She might have blown her cover, if Bart, too, hadn't been so occupied in his own revelation.

"Oh my god..." He says, his eyes the size of saucers. "I don't want Ms. Tindol back... I _need_ her back."

Bart had always viewed Ms. Tindol as nothing more than a good friend. Somebody he could relate to and laugh with. Somebody who he shared key interests with. That in itself was baffling to him. After losing her, he felt like he had simply lost a friend. Even if Bart had seen it like that, deep down, he couldn't believe it. Losing a friend, especially a friend of only a few months, would never have caused him to become like this. At the most, he'd be a bit downcast, but in a day's time, he'd get over it. So, why did he care so much now? Why did losing this friend in particular put him in such a depressive state, that he'd lose the will to do everyday things like laughing and talking? Well, because she was never just a friend. She was, in a way, like another mother to him.

Ms. Tindol's purpose wasn't just to crack jokes with Bart and compliment his artwork, she clearly cared very much about Bart's well-being in the way that a mother would. She comforted him when no one else could and always made sure he was ok. Even in his worst moods, she knew how to bring a smile to his face. She knew Bart's weaknesses, his flaws, and vice versa. They shared a bond that was much stronger than mere companionship, and it took a while for Bart to register that fully. Ms. Tindol was the encouragement he never knew he needed until meeting her. Of course, that wasn't to say he didn't receive encouragement from his friends and family, but there were some things that even those close to him couldn't support him in. Ms. Tindol was quite possibly the only person Bart had met that believed he had the potential to be great, and despite all of his faults, she still had very much faith in him.

The behavior Bart had conveyed for the past week could best be described as a slightly more mild version of the behavior he'd convey had he lost an immediate family member. He never realized how important she was to him. She was his guide, his map, and now that he no longer had her with him, he was lost.

Even though Bart did not verbally say any of this, Lisa was able to use her quick acumen to infer all of it.

" _Oh my goodness, how did I not know?_ " She asks herself. " _It was staring me right in the face this whole time... Bart's sad because he no longer has the motivation and encouragement he needs to use his gift for good, and that's because Ms. Tindol is on maternity leave!_ "

To be truthful, she was quite joyous. Finally, she knew what had been bothering Bart for all this while. But her bliss quickly turned into pity, now that she understood how crushed and discouraged he must feel. It might not have been all that hard to sympathize with Bart anyway, since losing a loved one would make anyone sad, but she could truly feel a connection, as she had gone through almost the same thing.

Lisa could never forget that day at the train station. How devastated she felt when she saw one of the few people to understand her true potential board that train, never to be seen by her again. It was one of the saddest, if not, _the_ saddest day of her life. However, that experience allowed her to realize that all she needed was herself to feel important. She realized that whenever she felt isolated or that nobody would stand by her, she just had to remember that _she was Lisa Simpson._

" _It all makes sense now. Why he's stopped talking, why he's stopped drawing... He's lost his one source of encouragement, the one thing that kept him going. Bart feels alone._ " She tells herself.

Slowly, she moves from her spot to peek at Bart again, who hadn't spoken since his last remark. Just like during her first attempt, she is unable to see his face. Despite this, she could tell how drastically unhappy he was.

Beyond her control, Lisa bursts into an abundance of tears. She made sure to hold her hands over her mouth to hopefully muffle the sound, but it was no use.

Bart snaps out of his saddened trance once he began to pick up the sound of familiar crying. His eyes enlarged and he did a double take. How could he _not_ recognize that sound? There was something so iconic to it, and whenever he heard it, his ears instinctively pricked up. It was almost like a built-in chip engraved into every older brother's head.

He froze, not making a single movement. Lisa was still in the middle of her muffled crying fit until Bart spoke again.

"... Lisa?"

Now it was her turn to freeze. Sclerae large, pupils shrunken, and hand still over her mouth, she silenced herself abruptly. Even if she was completely still, she couldn't stop her knees from wobbling like unbalanced plates on sticks.

" _Eek! I think he heard me!_ " She frets internally. " _Ok, stay calm... If you don't say anything, then he can't possibly-_ "

It must have been that gelid November weather, because just then, she sneezed.

" _Drat._ "

Now Bart was convinced. He'd know that sneeze from anywhere. (Even if he didn't want to admit it, Bart knew his sister like the back of his hand.) Cautiously, he stood up and shifted his pupils around to see if she was nearby. Lisa heard the distant sounds of grass ruffling as Bart moved around to search. She began to sweat profusely, what was there to do? If she stayed, he'd find her and know she was listening, but if she moved, he would hear her footsteps and instantly know she was nearby. Not to mention she was still exceedingly tardy for class.

Bart stood in place for a few more seconds. He was almost certain he heard something... He decided to further investigate and began to head to the other side of the shed. Which, need I remind you, was where Lisa hid.

She began to panic. (Inaudibly, of course.) Quickly, Lisa channeled her quick-wits. It wasn't easy, as she had a hard time thinking under pressure, but eventually she contrived a plan that was bound to work. It wasn't too difficult to think of actually, seeing as it wasn't very hard to fool Bart anyway.

Bart was approaching rather quickly, so she had to put her plan into action quick. Lisa began to dash for the school, making an immense amount of noise as she did. The shuffling sounds of grass, her clicking flats, and evident panting made her presence quite obvious. However, this was her intention.

Bart overheard the conspicuous noises and, naturally, headed straight towards them. Once she had confirmed that Bart was following the sounds she was making, Lisa stealthily leaped back behind the shed. She landed on her tummy, and even if she was in a bit of pain from the jump, she tried her best not to make any more sounds that would give her up.

Bart ran, but stopped once he realized nobody was there. He made a perplexed expression.

"B-But, I..." He has trouble continuing his sentence. "I know I heard something... I just know it!"

He keeps looking around, all he saw was the vacant grounds of his school.

"But... Nobody's here..." He looks down. "I must be hearing things, man... I... Better go back... I'm not thinking straight..." And so he sluggishly returned to the salmon-colored school building.

Lisa waited about a full minute for him to enter Springfield Elementary, and once the coast was completely clear, she sped straight to the school, going as fast as her stubby legs could take her.

Lisa was never a big fan of physical activity, and could see herself becoming a school janitor before she could even think to see herself as a track star, but just then she had gained incredible endurance and speed. She pushed past the glass double doors of the building and continued running in from there. Oddly enough, she didn't go to her classroom, but rather to her Prussian blue locker in the school hallway.

Hurriedly, she entered in her combination and threw open her locker with haste. In the heat of the moment, Lisa carelessly pushed through all of her textbooks and folders, showing little to no concern for the mess she was making to her previously organized setup. Pushing all of these things out of the way made a pathway for what she had been looking for this whole time: her walkie talkie.

She took out the brightly-colored toy and began to anxiously fumble with it until her fingers finally located its transmission. She held onto it, preparing to speak, but before she could get a word out...

"Of course I can give my 'two cents' on the issue! After all, it's what I make in a day! Teehee!"

Yikes, wrong button, once again. Too uneasy to form a scowl, Lisa ignores its statement and quickly presses the actual transmission.

"Hello? Hello?!" She repeats with the walkie talkie to her mouth.

She doesn't receive a response on the other line.

"Hello? Mom?" Lisa calls. "Mom! Can you hear me?"

Still, no response.

" _She must not be near the walkie talkie._ " Lisa assumes. " _Maybe if I scream loud enough, she'll hear it from wherever she is... But you can't just scream, you're in the middle of the school hallway! Someone might hear!_ "

" _Wait a minute... Who am I kidding? This is Springfield Elementary, they'd be more concerned about a slight wage decrease than the sound of an 8-year-old girl screeching in a vacant hallway..._ " Lisa lets out an enormous yell. " ** _Mom!_** "

She waited a few more seconds... And waited, and waited...

Surprisingly enough, she began to hear footsteps on the other line. The hurried footsteps of someone who had heard a loud noise. It was quite evident who this person was, and Lisa began to feel a hint of relief.

" _C'mon, c'mon..._ " She repeats, waiting to hear her mother's voice. However, just then, the line cut and all Lisa heard was static.

"Huh?" She looked back at the walkie talkie. The static slowly faded off, and soon it was just silent. She took a look around it, only to notice a small, red light beeping on and off on the battery compartment. Thankfully, Lisa had thoroughly read the toy's manual and knew what this meant. Not-so-thankfully, this wasn't a good sign.

"Dead batteries?!" She exclaims with perturbation. Then again, that wasn't much of a surprise: the Simpsons threw batteries around willy-nilly, something like this was bound to happen at some point. If only it didn't happen at such a crucial time.

"Oh, great. _Juuuust_ great." She rants, a hint of craziness gradually emerging in her tone. " _Now_ I'm gonna have to wait till I get home to tell Mom. What if she's not there? What if she's been kidnapped by some expert con artist who's actually a couch salesman in disguise who's _actually_ just an unhinged lion tamer who's escaped from Timbuktu to get away from an insane mercenary with a dark past he can't speak of, that..."

She covers her mouth. "Oh my lord! Listen to yourself! This whole thing's made you crazy! Who's crazy? You're crazy! No I'm not, _you're_ crazy! Crazy! Crazy! Craaaazy!" Lisa gripped onto her blonde hair, pulling it out like a madman.

Just that moment, the end bell of last period rang, meaning it was officially the end of the school day. Lisa had completely forgotten she was even _in_ school.

Students poured out of their classrooms, cheering and screaming euphorically like they would at the end of any school day. It seemed that all of the energy they didn't use in gym class was just being stored for dismissal.

Lisa was nearly trampled over by her schoolmates as they bolted past her like unchecked cheetahs speeding at their prey.

"Woooah!" She stammers, falling over in the mass of kids. She attempts to lift herself back up, but it felt almost as if she was being stampeded over by a herd of raging bulls. Every time she'd so as much lift her head, she'd be unintentionally stepped on by an oblivious student.

After what seemed like a century, the flock had made it outside and the hallway was cleared again. Lisa lethargically stood back up, covered in scratches and dirt marks from their shoes.

"That's the last time I stay out in the hallway 5 minutes before dismissal..." She groans, dusting herself off.

" _Now, get a hold of yourself, Lisa. You don't want another crazed outburst happening like last time. 'An unhinged lion tamer from Timbuktu'? Jeez..._ "

She straightened out her hair with her hands and tried her best to regain her composure. She began to open her locker once more to grab her backpack.

" _Don't worry. Just get out of here, get on that bus, and tell mom the second you get back home._ " She tells herself. " _I can only imagine how relieved she'll be! Or... How worried she'll be... Hm..._ "

She slams her locker shut once she had gotten her backpack and put it on.

" _You know, it was probably a good idea I let all those kids get past me. Now I don't have to worry about being caught up in that stampede._ "

She began to peacefully walk at her own pace, until she overheard Mr. Largo from the back of the hallway.

"Band, you are now dismissed!" He calls out. Before Lisa knew it, the abundance of band members proceeded to charge out of the band room in a rather disorderly fashion.

"Gah!" She exclaims, running as fast as she could before they caught up to her. Luckily, she had made it out without getting run over a second time.

"Phew..." She sighs in relief. Soon after, she lifted her head back up, facing forward, and confidently made her way to her school bus.

" _You can do this, Lisa._ " She tells herself. " _Just get on that bus, make it home, and boldly tell Mom what's been going on, you'll be glad that you did..._ "

Progressively, Lisa's bold expression vanishes, and is replaced with a disheartened frown. Her confident stride also lost its spirit, becoming a stagnant, miserable shuffle.

" _I... I still can't believe it..._ " She despondently says in her head. " _Poor Bart has been suffering this whole week, and... We didn't even notice... I can't help but feel like this is my fault. I was the only one he confided to about Ms. Tindol weeks prior, I can't believe I didn't know until now. How could I be so stupid? How could I be so careless? I'm such an awful sister..._" Lisa lets out a sigh. Before she started to sob again, she hastily held her head back up and reformed her valiant countenance, except much more serious than before.

" _Well, there's no point in worrying about that now. What's done is done, it's better I do the little I can than do nothing at all._ " She sternly tells herself. " _Just get on the bus with Bart, rush to the house, and tell Mom as soon as you see her._ "

Lisa had already told herself that multiple times, and she knew it, but for some reason, she couldn't stop. She had to continue verbally reassuring herself lest she lose her mind. It was odd, Lisa had never been so on edge about something in her entire life. She was usually very strong-willed and confident in her actions and rarely ever second-guessed herself, but now she was almost certain that something would go wrong and she'd end up blundering badly. In fact, she was so caught up in her stewing that she hadn't even realized that Bart was nowhere in sight, despite it being dismissal time.

Rather, Bart was still inside of the school. In fact, he had only _just_ returned to his class to fetch his bookbag before departing. Once he entered, he was met with the exhausted Edna, slouching at her desk tiredly. One hand rested under her chin while the other lazily held her burnt out cigarette over her ceramic ashtray.

The slow creak of the door managed to get her attention. Krabappel shifts her pupils towards the noise, and once she had fully caught sight of Bart, she turned her whole body around in her seat to face the boy.

"Oh, hello, Bart." She murmurs, weariness apparent in her voice. "I completely forgot you had left. What took you so long?"

Bart doesn't answer with words, but merely shrugs in response as he steadily trudges towards his desk. As he does this, Krabappel watches him with a hint of concern. It was a widely known fact that she and Bart weren't exactly "buddy-buddy" with each other, but even _she_ began to worry about him. It wasn't like him to behave so sedate, and couldn't help but be the slightest bit curious as to what was causing him to act this way. However, from the way things were looking, she didn't see herself getting an explanation any time soon.

At this point, Bart had gotten a hold of his backpack and had carelessly slung it over his shoulder. He made his way out of the room, which took a good two minutes of his time. By now, all of the students had already gotten out of the building and the buses were preparing to set off for the suburbs in which their respective passengers resided in.

Lisa, who was still as jumpy as a hare on a trampoline, sat in her usual spot on the bus: right behind the driver. Her hands rested over her tightly fastened legs as she impatiently waited for the bus to start moving.

" _C'mon, c'mon, c'mon..._ " She quietly mumbles to herself, biting her lip a bit as she did. She felt like she had been waiting eons for Otto to start driving, when in reality, it hadn't been more than 10 minutes.

Unable to take the wait any longer, Lisa anxiously reached over her seat to tap Otto Mann on the shoulder.

"Erm... Otto?" She uneasily begins. "I don't mean to be a pill, but when the heck are we getting out of here?!"

"Ah, take it easy, dudette! We'll be outta here before you can say... Uh..." Clueless, he scratches his hair underneath his cap. "... Gee, I dunno... I guess we can go now then."

He inserts the key into the bus' ignition and twists it to start it up. He then firmly shifts into drive as he begins pulling out of the school driveway, along with the other buses that began to follow suit.

Lisa sits back in her seat calmly, now that her anxieties had been somewhat assuaged.

" _Phew... I feel **much** more relieved..._" She exhales internally. " _Before I know it, I'll be back in the comfort of my own home, and I can finally tell Mom what's been going on with Bart, and this whole thing will be resolved!_ "

Now alleviated, Lisa closes her eyes contently and tries to get some rest after the stressful day...

... Instantaneously, they reopen.

She sits back up.

She stiffens.

All of the hue drains her face.

"... Bart." She starts, almost too quietly. "... Bart... Bart is..."

She looks to her side.

"Bart... Bus..." Her eyes twitch a bit, her hand begins to shake, and right at this moment, she can feel herself slowly drifting into madness.

" _Bart's not on the bus..._ " She says to herself in an extremely hushed tone. "Bart's... Not on the bus!" She raises her volume a tad. Lisa grabs hold of her face tightly and begins breathing heavily.

" ** _BART'S NOT ON THE BUS!_** " She shrieks in panic. Lisa had been so preoccupied with getting back home to help Bart, that she didn't even notice Bart's absence, completely defeating the purpose of returning home in the first place. How ironic.

"What? 'Bar snot's on the bus'?" Otto mishears. "Is that code for somethin'?"

Lisa trepidatiously gets up from her seat, not even thinking about the dangers of doing such a thing, and rushes up to Otto. "Otto! Otto! Y-You need to turn the bus around! Bart never got on!"

"No can do, Lisa. The gear's been actin' all sorts of bogus lately, if I put it in reverse, it won't go back into drive for another 6 hours and you kids'll be stuck at school till night hits!" The doped bus driver explains. "Not to mention, I might lose my job, and I am _not_ trying to take that driving test again. I may not be so lucky the second- erm, third- no wait... Seventh time around! You understand, don't you?"

Instead of responding, Lisa gave a hopeless sigh and reluctantly returned to her seat. She had never felt so imbecilic before. First she had missed the all too evident signs Bart had displayed throughout the entire week, and then she let her unduly antsy behavior get in the way of her own plan to fix her previous mistake. She felt that these were mistakes that could have easily been avoided had she paid more attention to what was transpiring around her. However, in the grand scheme of things, Lisa was still only 8 years old, and to even be able to come up with a plan so elaborate in the first place was amazing. Unfortunately, she had a habit of forgetting this, which caused her to put too much pressure on herself for her minor slip-ups. Having already been put on such a high pedestal by herself, the smallest inconvenience caused her to believe that she no longer served any purpose. She thought, if she wasn't always right, what was she even good for?

...

Bart slowly straggled towards Springfield Elementary's spacious bus lot, expecting to see the habitual rows of bright yellow and multitude of his peers gathered around them. However, this turned out to not be the case.

The lot was completely and utterly empty. As uninhibited and desolate as his state of mind. It was clear to him that all of the buses had already departed and were well into their route at this point. He felt disappointed, but not too surprised. He _had_ been severely lagging behind the others, it only made sense that Otto and the other buses took off without him.

Bart was already so disheartened, he saw no point in moping anymore. By the time he got home, he was going to make sure he got over this whole thing. He didn't care how arduous it would be, he didn't care how hard he'd have to push. He was _going_ to let this go. He knew he couldn't fix his problem, and if he just kept sulking about it, he'd be miserable for the rest of his life. Sure, he'd still live in misery if he actually managed to forget about it, but he knew it wouldn't be nearly as agonizing had he refused to face the reality of it. It seemed unfair, but throughout these past few days, Bart had learned to succumb to the unfairness and just let life happen, no matter how much it hurt him in the end.

With all hope lost at this point, Bart realized that the only thing he could do was accept whatever life chose to throw at him.

And so he walked.

* * *

 _ **About 15 Minutes Later...**_

"Alright, little dudes! Off the bus!" Otto bids, as he opens the glass double doors of the vehicle to allow the bustling mass of students to exit. "Have a rockin' weekend!" Without warning, he pulls out his bright crimson electric guitar and plays a killer riff as he rides off. Any halfwit knew such an act was inordinately dangerous, but "danger" was Otto's middle name. (Actually, it was Fritz, but that's not _nearly_ as cool as "Danger").

Despite being at the front of the bus, Lisa was the last to leave. She made sure to search the bus from top to bottom before exiting to make sure Bart wasn't hiding out in the back aisle or something. Alas, he was nowhere to be found, and she slumped down the bus steps in defeat. Once she had made it onto her sidewalk, she began walking towards her abode with a feeling of defeat.

" _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ " She repeats to herself. " _How do you mess up this badly, Lisa? This isn't like you! Sure, you make a few slip-ups here and there, but never this bad..._ "

When she reaches her house, rather than going inside, Lisa stations herself at its front porch and sits on its highest step. She buries her face into her palms and begins to silently cry again.

" _This is hopeless..._ " She states in a faint, hoarse voice. " _Who am I kidding? I'm a failure, a complete and utter failure!_ " She weeps some more, now fully smothering her head into her knees. " _The whole family was counting on you, Lisa, and what do you do? You screw it all up! Bart's completely torn, and Mom probably thinks less of you. The fact that you couldn't even complete this minuscule task is just..._ " She sobs even louder. It gets to a point where if you were close enough to her, it would most likely get your attention, and it _did_ get someone's attention, just not the person you'd think.

Maggie, the youngest Simpson, slithered about inside her house, contently sucking on her pacifier.

She had been doing so since waking up from her nap, but her recreation is halted when she overhears an almost too recognizable sound. Just like Bart, she could never ignore Lisa's crying.

Maggie climbed up the cushioned bench that stood in front of the house's main window and peered outside of it, as that was where she presumed the sound was coming from. As expected, she is met with the sight of her older sister softly bawling on their steps. She couldn't help but frown a little, but luckily, she knew exactly what to do.

Hurriedly, Maggie fell off the seat and swiftly skid over to the main door. Being only an infant, she was much too short to reach the knob, but being Maggie, she always came ready with a game plan.

The baby looked to her left and spotted a small, wooden TV tray. Homer must have carelessly left it out again. Fortunately, it worked in her favor. She dragged the lightweight table towards coral pink door, and once it was directly in front of it, Maggie skillfully ascended up its legs and before she knew it, she sat directly in front of the knob. She twists it with all her might and managed to get the door to open. Now ajar, Maggie hopped off the table and silently peeked outside. The first thing she sees is the back of Lisa's body, hunched over her knees.

Maggie approached her sister, knelt by her side, and stared at her until she noticed her presence.

Lisa had calmed her sobbing down at this point, and began to feel somebody close by her. She lifted her head back up and turned to her right.

"M-Maggie?" She croaks, her eyes still wet with tears.

Maggie reaches inside of her baby blue onesie and withdraws a clean hanky, which she held out to Lisa.

She sniffs and accepts her offering by vehemently blowing into it. Once she's finished, she neatly folds it and disposes of the tissue in the nearby garbage bin.

"Thanks." She softly remarks, giving her nose one last quick clean with her arm.

Lisa faced down into her lap sadly, a few stray tears still dropping from her eyes.

"Oh, Maggie." She starts. "I can't do anything right."

Maggie doesn't respond for a few seconds, and then scoots herself closer to her sister. She removes her pacifier from her mouth and shows it to a now confused Lisa.

"Hm?" She stares at the binky with bewilderment, having no idea what she was trying to communicate with it.

To better help her understand, Maggie removes the rubber nipple of it and shows that to Lisa. She begins to slowly understand.

"Oh, yeah! I almost forgot about this." Lisa responds, taking the teat from her and carefully examining it. "A few months back, this part of your pacifier snapped off and you were a complete wreck!"

Maggie nods.

"We couldn't get you to calm down for days." She goes on. "So I took the initiative of attempting to fix the problem. I spent the whole day trying to reattach it, and finally, I did." She forms a small smile and giggles a bit. "I remember just how jubilant you were when I returned it to you, and how relieved Mom and Dad were to finally be able to get some sleep."

Maggie grins, and then removes her blue bow from her head, and hands _that_ to Lisa. She is a bit more quick to comprehend what she is referencing to.

"Then there was that other time when the threads of your bow came lose in the washer, and no matter how hard Mom tried to soothe you, you just wouldn't stop crying about it!" She lightly runs her fingers through her baby sister's blonde head, sniffing back her tears. "So I spent that whole day sewing it back together for you with nothing but a needle and the thread. It wasn't easy, but by next morning, I had your bow looking good as new, and you were so happy."

Maggie holds her smile, Lisa smiles back. She takes her bow and places it back on her head. She then proceeds to take her dismembered binky, reattach the parts, and put it back into her mouth.

Maggie then holds onto Lisa's hand and begins to slither towards the edge of the porch. Lisa turns towards the direction Maggie pointed her to and was met with a plump bush containing a great amount of bright orange tiger lily flowers.

"Oh, Maggie, aren't they just beautiful?" Lisa admires. "I remember it like it was yesterday: all of Mom's petunias had dried out after Dad forgot to water them while she was off on her weekend trip with Aunt Patty and Aunt Selma. She was so sad, and Dad felt horrible too, so I decided to help him plant new, even prettier flowers! We drove straight to the home improvement store and went searching for flowers we thought she'd like. We finally settled on these beautiful tiger lilies. Hehe... I remember the way Dad flinched when he took the name a tad too literally. We kept them hidden from Mom that entire week. Once they were fully grown, we surprised her with them, and I could've sworn I saw tears forming in her eyes. She was so happy, and Dad was too!"

Maggie nods, sucking earnestly at her pacifier. Carefully, she picked one of the flowers off its bush. She then slides down the porch and begins skidding off somewhere else.

Lisa stands up. "Maggie! Where are you-"

The baby holds out her palm and makes a "follow me" gesture. Without question, Lisa complies and walks a few feet behind her sister.

Soon, they end up in the Simpson's backyard where a large canvas stood against the house. Lisa's smile only grew. This was Bart's canvas, and on it was an unfinished painting he made of him, Homer, Marge, Lisa, and Maggie.

"Bart's painting." She states, marveling at the masterpiece. "It was the beginning of November, Bart was having his very first episode of artist's block. His sketchbooks were already jam-packed with the same thing over and over, and he just didn't know where to go from there. He looked to me for advice, which I won't lie, really touched me..." She forms a pleasant grin, reddening a bit. "After a long brainstorming session that may or may not have involved more spitball flinging than it did actual idea contriving, we finally came up with the perfect subject matter: us! And so, came this!" Lisa nears the massive work of art and slides her hand down the sides of the canvas board. "It's not quite finished yet, but it looks stellar already! Bart was so anxious that he'd mess it up, but I continued to reassure him. It was a little funny, I had never seen someone so self-assured act so doubtful of himself. But I suppose perturbation is the product of passion."

She backs away from the picture to get a better look.

"Marvelous. Simply marvelous."

She turns back to face Maggie and steadily approached her. "But... I still don't quite understand. Why did you show me all of this?"

Maggie was a girl a little words. After all, she was only 1 year old. Due to this impediment, she tried her very best to relay what she was trying to convey without verbal speech.

She scooted towards the canvas. Then, she removed her bow and pacifier again. She pointed to the drawing Bart had made of Maggie on the canvas.

Lisa stared without a word.

Maggie then proceeds to hold out the tiger lily flower she had picked about a minute ago. Then, she pointed at Marge and Homer on the canvas.

Lisa continued to stare, and began to squint a bit.

Lastly, Maggie pointed to Bart on the painting, and then held out both of her tiny arms as a way to direct towards the entire canvas.

Lisa finally understood.

"Oh my goodness..." Lisa whispers. "Maggie... Are you trying to say..." Maggie eagerly looked back at Lisa.

"I... Helped all of them..." The 8-year-old states. "I suppose I... _Can_ do some things right..."

Maggie nods.

"But, I still make mistakes..."

Maggie makes an "ok" sign with her fingers.

"And... That's ok, because we all make mistakes sometimes."

Maggie gives her an open-mouthed smile, and hugs herself.

"But I shouldn't stress myself too much... Because in the end, you'll all still love me..."

To conclude, Maggie points to herself, then makes a "hand heart" gesture with her fingers, and then points to Lisa. What she was interpreting was quite self-explanatory. Lisa could only grin.

"Oh, Maggie..." She beams. "You're going to make me cry again..."

The two sister share a sweet, tender hug. This goes on for a prolonged amount of time.

"Thanks, Maggie." Lisa beams. "I love you too."

Before parting, the two share a brief, but wholesome cheek nuzzle.

"Heh, I suppose I was being a little dramatic back there, huh?" Maggie nods in response.

"Well, I'm just glad that _that's_ been settled." Lisa continues. "Though, I am still worried about Bart. But I know we can get through this together. And besides, Bart has walked back home on plenty occasions, I'm certain he'll make it back safely."

Maggie places a reassuring hand over Lisa's shoulder. Lisa shifts her pupils towards her and bashfully smiles.

"We should go back inside, Mags. Mom and Dad are probably worried sick." Lisa suggests. "On that note... Where are Mom and Dad? I'm sure they would have come out by now to look for us..."

Maggie had just remembered that she hadn't yet informed Lisa on their parent's present whereabouts. Luckily, she was able to supply her with this information.

Lisa noticed Maggie digging through her onesie again. Except this time, it wasn't for a hanky, but rather a small piece of paper which she hands off to Lisa.

Lisa glances down at the folded sheet of paper. It read "Mom" in almost alluring cursive handwriting. Next to it, was a heart. Carefully, she unfolds the paper to reveal a hand-written note, presumably, written by Marge.

" _Dear Bart and Lisa, your father and I have stepped out of the house for a few hours. We went down to the theater to watch that new romance film I've been dying to see since it came out. You know, the one with that pretty blonde girl and that other guy... Tim Hanks, I think. We were going to take Maggie with us, but it doesn't look like she'll be waking up from her nap anytime soon. She'll most likely still be fast asleep by the time you read this. If this is the case, please try and keep it down! (Especially you, Bart.) You know how fussy she's been lately. If she does happen to be awake when you two arrive, could one of you bottle-feed her as soon as possible? Preferably Lisa... I showed you how to mix her formula, but in case you've forgotten, I left instructions on the canister. After that, just keep a close eye on her and make sure she doesn't light the house on fire. If she does, dial 9-1-1 immediately! Hmm... Now that I think about it, that probably wouldn't be the best idea. Scratch that. Just watch her, please. We should be home in the evening, stay safe! Don't talk to any strangers, or strange-looking people. I trust you! Well, I trust Lisa. Bart, we'll see what happens. Love, Mom._ "

"It's like Mom to ramble a bit, but jeez..." Lisa murmurs, taking notice of the excessive length of the note. "Well, at least I know where they are."

She takes another quick look at the note, and takes heed of one particular part.

Lisa twists her face. "'Romance movie'? Oh, poor Dad... He must be bored out of his mind."

...

We cut to Springfield's iconic Aztec Theater, where Marge and Homer were viewing their movie. On the theater's showing display board, it read _SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE._

The movie had just reached its conclusion. Inside, the theater was primarily occupied with middle aged women, as to be expected with a film like this. However, none of them could pay any attention to what was going on in the movie, as they were much too distracted (and mildly miffed) by the infamous Homer. As usual, he had been making rather "off-putting" comments throughout the entire duration of the film.

"Oh, are you kidding me?" Homer obnoxiously exclaims. "You're telling me he flew 3,000 miles from Seattle to New York, and only gets to _hold her hand?!_ "

Marge glares at him. "Homie, please." She briskly whispers.

"I'm just sayin' it's a pretty anticlimactic way to end the movie, Marge..."

She rolls her eyes. Marge loved her husband very much, but she could only take so much of his ignorance at a time.

...

Lisa shrugs. "Hm, oh well. I guess I'll just have to wait. Who knows, maybe by the time they arrive, Bart will already be home."

Maggie clasps her hands towards her chest and nods with her eyes closed.

"Hey, Maggie! Do you wanna play "Malibu Stacy's Dream House" with me?" She eagerly questions. "We can add new drapes to really make the wallpaper stand out!"

Maggie excitedly claps her hands together and giggles. Lisa took this as a yes, and held her sister's hand as she walked her back into the house.

* * *

5:30 hits. It had been 2 full hours, and it was nearly pitch black outside. Bart continued on with his sluggish journey back home.

On a regular day, it didn't take Bart anymore than half an hour to get home by foot. But this was far from a regular day.

The streets were deserted. It was dead silent, save for the eerie drifts of passing winds. The atmosphere was bleak and dismal, any trace of color had been drained out completely. If the word "dreary" were to be converted into a setting, this would be the outcome. Even Bart, who had been longing solitude this entire day, began to feel a little uncomfortable with the deafening silence and lack of company. It was strange, Springfield was almost never this empty. With such an immense population, you'd expect the town to be bustling every hour of the day. For some reason, today was an exception.

It was cold, painfully cold. Thankfully, Bart had come prepared. He removed his backpack and unzipped it to retrieve his purple hoodie. After sliding his arms through its warm sleeves, he zipped it up halfway and proceeded with his walking. With each step, he punted at a stray can that he had found on the floor.

" _It's just not fair. Her pregnancy ruined everything. Now Ms. Tindol's gone and she's never coming back._ " He says to himself in his head.

" _That's right, she's never coming back. So suck it up and stop whining, you baby._ " He replies internally.

" _But I miss her... A lot._ "

" _Oh, please. You sound like a girl._ "

" _But she was so nice to me._ "

" _Nice people come and go, what's so special about this one?_ "

" _She encouraged me, she listened to me, and she was one of the only people who believed in me. She's the reason I discovered my gift._ "

" _Bitch, bitch, bitch. That's all I hear. Would you stop whining? She. Is. Gone. She is long gone! She's never coming back, dammit!_ "

" _She could."_

" _No, she couldn't._ "

" _Yes, she could!_ "

" _And when I thought you couldn't get any stupider. Now you're lying to yourself? Get it together, man!_ "

" _I am together!_ "

" _Then why are you talking to yourself?_ "

" **I don't know!** " He blurts out, loudly.

Bart began to pant, trying to calm himself down. Now he was sure he was going mad.

He noted where he stood, and realized that he wasn't very far from home. However, he didn't want to go back home anymore. He wanted to keep walking.

So he changed his route, and began heading towards a locality he had never seen before.

 _ **(A/N: Just in case you were curious, Bart's internal argument with himself was inspired by David Morrell's "First Blood", in which the protagonist, John Rambo, occasionally has trifling quarrels with himself throughout the story. I just thought the concept was really interesting and wanted to incorporate it into my story. Just if you were wondering.)**_

...

Bart had always been a very adventurous child, and everyone knew that. Despite this, he started to feel chills speed down his spine as he entered this uncharted territory.

"I've never seen this part of Springfield before..." The fearful boy mutters under his breath.

The area appeared very ghetto. There was unwanted junk sprawled every which way, broken bottles and various weapons had just been thrown throughout the streets, there was no single-family home in sight but merely rundown apartments, rabid and untamed animals inhabited the area and walked about like it was nobody's business, and Bart was almost certain he spotted a dead body lying somewhere.

To add to the already terrifying setting, it was even darker than before, and Bart was beginning to have trouble seeing his surroundings. The only thing that illuminated the area were the shabby, blinking streetlights that struggled to even stand up on their own. Gradually, he started to regret his decision.

"Oh, man... I'm gonna die out here..." Bart trembles, he could feel sweat running down his palms in spite of the subzero temperature. "I always thought my death would be caused by something cool, like a daredevil stunt gone wrong or explosives strapped to my chest, not like _this._ "

He unwillingly proceeded with his journey. "Ok, Bart. Don't panic. As long as you don't bring any attention to yourself, nothing bad can happen... Besides, there's no way anyone is actually out here at this time of-"

 _ **BANG!**_

He stood corrected.

Immediately, he shrieked. In a part of town like this, there was no mistaking what that sound could have been.

Instinctively, he ran, and _fast._

Bart began to pant rapidly like a dog. This was the fastest he had ever run in his entire life.

"Ah!" He screeches. "No! No way I'm dying! Not here, not now!" As much as he didn't want to admit it, he could feel himself about to cry. Thankfully, he was much too scared to even think about crying.

He had no clue where the shot even came from so he wasn't entirely sure where to flee. One wrong move and he could end up running straight into the shooter. He didn't hear a second shot, which only heightened his fears. Was he trying to lead him off? Was he hiding? Was he preparing a surprise attack? Bart didn't want to stay to see the outcome.

At this point, all he wanted was to return back to the safety and comfort of his own home. It was the least the universe could do for him. His life had been going all kinds of wrong as of lately, and he didn't understand what he had done to deserve any of it. Every day since receiving that unfortunate news in class, he continually hoped that each day that followed was all just some kind of elongated nightmare. This was, sadly, not the case at all.

Bart thought he had lost everything: his gift, his motivation, his dignity, his will to do anything, his comfort, and of course, his mentor. He could feel his whole world crashing down upon him like a ton of bricks. He felt trapped and immobile, he couldn't escape all of the pressure that was keeping him down. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move from under all of the weight. Now that he was stuck, what purpose did he have? He felt scared, worried, depressed, and utterly useless. But he couldn't worry about that now. He had to save himself from possible imminent death.

Trying to look past his fear, Bart attempted to use his quick wits to get him out of this sticky situation. He realized that if he was going to escape from this guy, he had to be smart with where he chose to hide out. He had no clue where his pursuer situated, so the smartest place to hide would be somewhere very discreet and condensed. Still speeding, Bart hurriedly surveyed through the zone for any place that met his qualifications, but everywhere he passed was either too spacious or blocked out by an apartment.

He started to panic (more than he already had been) and could feel himself tiring out.

"Can't... Run... Any longer..." Bart grunts through heavy pants. "Need... To find... Hiding spot..."

Bart knew he only had so much time before his legs gave out and could only pray for a miracle at this point, so he closed his eyes, held his hands together, and got started.

"Lord... I know I haven't exactly been the best kid, but I've been getting better! Please, oh Lord, I just ask that, for once during this god awful week, cut me some slack! Please! It's the least you could do! I'm not asking for a boatload of cash or gobs of candy, just a chance to survive, Lord. I don't usually turn to you for help, but this time around, I need all the help I can- GAH!"

His prayer is cut short when he feels himself trip over a tire that had been left sitting on the sidewalk. It probably wasn't a very smart idea to pray while on the run from a possible madman.

Nevertheless, Bart stumbles over and falls into an open alley. The landing was excruciatingly painful and with each tumble, he gained a new scratch on his body.

Once he stopped skidding across the rigid pavement, he lied there, completely still. He let out a moan in pain, as he tried his best to get back onto his feet.

" _This is it. The last straw. I can't go on, I feel so weak..._ " He croaks. With nothing left to do, he braced himself for impact...

... But strangely enough, he heard nothing.

He looked back, confused. "Huh? What the heck?"

That's when he noticed where he was: a compact, closed off alleyway. It was the perfect hiding spot.

Just to be sure he was safe, he took a small peak out and saw no one for miles. It was evident that he had made it out successfully.

" _I... Made it!_ " He states in his head. " _I-I can't believe it! I'm alive!_ " He faces up to the sky and put his hands back together. " _I knew I could count on you! And just to show how thankful I am, I promise to limit my Gameboy time at church to only 10 minutes. Also, feel free to add in that money and candy I mentioned earlier._ "

He felt so relieved, he had almost forgotten how internally troubled he felt only a few minutes ago.

The alley, as per mentioned, was rather dense and vacant, but it was also _very_ long and narrow. The only things occupying its space was its several graffiti-smeared apartments and scattered pieces of litter.

He peered down at his now scuffed Krusty the Clown watch. He had to squint to read the numbers, due to the lack of light, but he manged to see that it read "6:27 PM".

"Jeez, I better get home." Bart says, headed towards the opening of the alleyway.

He was just about to depart, that is, until he heard a distant noise. He instantly freezes in place and doesn't make a sound for a few seconds.

"..." He felt himself shaking a little. To think he had _just_ escaped his impending demise, and now he had something else to worry about.

He heard the noise again, and was able to identify it a little better. It almost sounded like... A sniffle.

Following that were distinct, muffled sounds he couldn't quite pick out. It sort of sounded like a laugh or a moan.

Any rational person would have straight up booked it from there, but this wasn't a rational person, it was Bart.

"Wh-Who's there?" No response, they must've not heard him.

"I said, who's there?!" He repeats, a little more intimidating. Slowly, he edges towards the sound. "In case you don't know, I just got done beating off a masked murderer, s-so if you know what's good for you..." He gulps.

Bart made rigid, shaky steps as he approached them. As he got closer, they gradually came into view. Before he knew it, he was able to detect a silhouette of a person.

"I'm warning you, man, back off before it's too late!" Bart hisses, trying his best to sound threatening. Only being 10 years of age, it wasn't a simple task.

He was reluctant to keep going. He felt like he was merely humoring them. They were probably just baiting him, and he was foolishly taking it. Nonetheless, he persisted.

He could feel sweat running down him again, and his limbs began to go numb with fear. He bit his lip apprehensively and hoped he wasn't leading himself to his doom.

Bart was several feet away from the unidentified person. At this point, he had no shame admitting that he was too scared to get any closer, so he remained where he was and tried to stare them down. If he manged to get a good enough look at them, he'd be able to see if they were even worth confronting.

As time went on, it only got darker and darker, and it was practically impossible to see someone from such a distance. That's when he took notice of one of the nearby streetlights. Only one stood in the narrow alley. Just his luck, it appeared to be the most faulty one in the whole neighborhood. It only shined for about 2 seconds each minute, and flickered like mad. Just trying to look past it gave Bart a splitting headache. Luckily, the light was close to the unknown individual, but that only helped a little.

Bart squints his eyes nearly shut. He awaited for the light to turn on again. It sure took its time about it.

Finally, it swiftly glinted. Bart tensely stared at the person, as if his life depended on it. (Which it somewhat did in this circumstance.)

" _C'mon... C'mon... Show yourself already..._ " He murmurs in his head. Instinctively, he clenched his teeth and fist, and then...

He gasped.

He couldn't believe who he saw.

There was just no way...

For a second, he thought he was merely hallucinating due to all of the stress. But slowly, he realized that this wasn't the case.

Bart's mouth fell open, and he could only stare in utter disbelief. He had trouble believing what he was seeing, but there was no denying it. He'd recognize that face anywhere.

"M... M... M-Ms. Tindol?"

Yes. Ms. Tindol.

Just then, Bart was deprived of all of the feeling in his body. This had to be some kind of incredible dream, it just had to be. He soon recognized that it wasn't. There she was, plain in sight. He didn't know what to do, what to say, or what to feel.

"Is it... Really you...?" He stammers.

Before he could even get a reply back, Bart feels himself tearing up a little, and out of pure, unbridled bliss, he sprints towards her with glee.

" _MS. TINDOL!_ " He screams out, smiling for the first time in ages. "Ms. Tindol! I-I missed you! I missed you so much! I can't believe it! You're here! You're here! You're actually..."

He stops. Now that he had gotten much closer to her, he was able to notice something he wasn't able to discern from his previous distance.

She was crying.


	10. The Lone Tindol

Disclaimer - The rights to _The Simpsons_ and its characters belong to Matt Groening, the Fox Broadcasting Company, and any others associated with the show. No profit is being made from this fanfiction, this is all just for fun :)

 _ **This is yet, another chapter, I've decided to split into 2 different ones, for 3 reasons.**_

 _ **1\. Had I not, this chapter would be extremely long!**_

 _ **2\. It works just fine as its own chapter anyways**_

 _ **3\. The "second part" has been much more arduous to write in contrast to this part, and I'd rather have a new chapter out now to keep you guys busy while I work on the other part.**_

 _ **Since this decision was rather abrupt and unplanned, pardon me if next chapter seems to start off a bit suddenly.**_

 _ **I'd like to once again apologize if this chapter isn't as well-written as some of the others. As mentioned in the previous chapter, I've been out of the writing game for some time (this was mainly due to school stuff, but also because the Notes app on my phone has been acting up lately and runs so painfully slow now and has been for several months now, so I've lost some of my motivation to write.) so I'm trying to get acquainted with it again. I'm really trying to make this work, so at this point, I'm just praying I'll get somewhat decent again lmao.**_

 _ **Also, I've decided to put this story on hold once I reach chapter 15. I wanted to at least get a few chapters past the halfway mark of the story before going on hiatus, because I really want to get back to my Bob's Burgers story, mainly because I have some big news for it that I want to let its readers know about as soon as possible. From the way things are looking, this story will end up having about 24 chapters, including its epilogue.**_

 _ **Anyways, enjoy!**_

* * *

 **Chapter 10 - The Lone Tindol**

There she was in the murky, virtually impenetrable alley.

She sat on the refuse-ridden pavement with her knees tightly hugged towards her chest as she wept her heart out. Tears streaming down her cheeks like a rushing waterfall, her hands pressed up against her face vigorously. She had been doing so for the past hour, but Bart was only just now seeing it.

As if catching Ms. Tindol out of the blue wasn't shocking enough, finding her crying in the middle of a vacant alley was even more hard to take in. There were too many things transpiring and not enough time to fully process any of it.

Wildly baffled, Bart continues to stare at the teacher with his mouth gaped wide open. He had so many questions, but he was too confused to even formulate a single one of them.

Despite being plain in sight, Ms. Tindol failed to notice Bart goggling at her, too absorbed in her own misery. That is, until he repeated her name.

"Ms. Tindol...?" He quietly whispers, still with a hint of disbelief present in his tone.

She gasps and stops her crying. She immediately recognized that voice.

Her eyes grew in shock and she removes them from her soaked hands. Tindol stared forward for a few seconds, wondering if she had really heard what she had heard, or if she just wasn't thinking straight.

Her palms shook tensely, almost feeling a bit frightened. She shakily turns her head to face where she had heard the noise coming from, and nearly fell over when she saw him.

" _Bart?_ " She gasps, unable to believe what she was seeing for a moment.

"Ms. Tindol..." Is the only thing he says in response.

The two stare at each other without a word. It hadn't been more than a week plus a few days since they had last seen each other, but with everything that was happening in both of their respective lives as of lately, it almost felt like an interval of centuries.

Needless to say, they were both bemused to no end. They had no clue how to react. Neither of them could tell if they were happy, relieved, scared, confused, or all of the above. Most likely the latter.

After nearly an entire minute of dead silence, Bart spoke up.

"Ms. Tindol, I..." He hesitates. "... Hi." He simply states.

Before replying, she sniffs and tries to clean her red eyes. "Hello."

More silence followed. Both were still too amazed to have run into each other, and in an alleyway of all places.

To avoid anymore awkward silence, Ms. Tindol tried her best to make conversation. She looked up to face her former student. (She didn't have to look up too far, seeing as Bart barely advanced past her waist when she stood by him.

"Bart..." She starts, her voice slightly raspy from all the crying. "Dear... Wh-What are you doing out here?"

"What are _you_ doing out here?" He asks with an immense amount of concern evident in his voice. He comes closer towards her.

She looks down ashamedly. "I live here."

"You live... Here?" Bart repeats incredulously. She nods.

"Well... Not for long..." She mumbles that last part. Before she knew it, she started crying again. Bart wasn't sure how to comfort her at a time like this, and could only glance at her with pity.

"Wh-Where's your house? Do you not have a house?" He questions, progressively getting more worried.

She speaks through her wailing. "I do... A-An apartment." She stammers.

"Well, wh-why aren't you in it? It's cold out here!" The child queries.

But alas, she just kept crying and crying. Bart couldn't take another second of it, he didn't have a lick of an idea as to what was going on.

"M-Ms. Tindol, I-" She cuts him off.

"Go home, Bart. It's not safe here." She warns, taking a break from her weeping to face him.

"I know." He states firmly. "That's why I wanna know why _you're_ out here. Ms. Tindol..."

"I-I really don't think I should bring you into this. How did you even get here?" Ms. Tindol asks fretfully. "Do you live by here?"

"No, I've never seen this place until now." He answers. "I was on my way home from school, a-and I got a little lost..." He looks to the side and scratches his spiky locks.

"Well, you best be on your way now... Please, Bart... This probably isn't the best time... To..." She begins to pant, trying to hold back her incoming tears, but to no avail. She explodes into tears for the hundredth time that day, covering her face once more.

" _Oh, man. What do I do?_ " Bart frets internally. " _This is all happening so fast._ _I have so many questions, and I can't believe I found Ms. Tindol! But she's crying... I just wish I knew why..._ _I can't just leave her out here, I need to help her, but how am I supposed to help someone when I have no idea what they need help with?_ " Bart uneasily looks back at the distressed woman. He knew that before he could even get started questioning her, he had to find some way to soothe her.

" _Think, Bart, think... How can I get her to stop crying?_ " Just then, he thought of his sister.

It was hard to believe, but Bart was almost always able to get Lisa to calm down after a good cry. Ironically enough, he was usually the reason she was crying in the first place.

Nonetheless, in the end, she'd have a smile on her face. If not that, she'd at least have dry eyes and feel much more content than she had before. Normally, he'd cheer her up by cracking a few jokes at his expense, but from the way things were looking with Ms. Tindol, this most likely wasn't the most appropriate setting for making jokes.

Instead, he tried a more compassionate approach. He didn't expect this to be easy, as such a concept like "compassion" seemed almost alien to the elementary student.

Bart quietly inches towards Ms. Tindol and sits down right by her. As if standing on the littered concrete wasn't unpleasant enough, now he had to sit on it. But he looked past that and focused on helping his ex-teacher.

Now that he was next to her, he awkwardly attempted to put his arm around Tindol's shoulders, hoping that would somewhat assuage her anguish. He couldn't reach very far, what with his rather short limbs, but he managed to get a decent distance behind her back.

She soon began to feel Bart's arm around her, startling her a bit. However, she kept on crying, wanting to get the very last bit of it out.

Bart didn't know if he could take this any longer. It wasn't as if he was getting impatient, but rather increasingly worried the more she went on and started to feel like he was being more of a burden than he was an aid.

Unbeknownst to him, this was not the case. Ms. Tindol felt a surge of comfort run through her once Bart started to hold onto her. While he didn't know it, Bart was one of the most important people in her life. Despite only knowing him for a full month, he had made such a powerful impact on her while mentoring him at Springfield Elementary. The feeling of his arm around her brought almost instant relief to her, and gradually, she began to calm herself and her wailing lessened in intensity.

Bart had noticed her sobbing steadily simmering down, allaying him immensely.

" _Wow, I really didn't think that would work._ " He thinks to himself.

It took Ms. Tindol another minute to wholly calm herself. After cleaning herself up and getting her last few sniffs out, she went silent. Bart turns to look at her, she's facing down.

She looks back at him and the two kept their eyes fixed on each other again.

Bart speaks. "Are you ok...?"

She nods, cleaning up the last few bits of tears trying to escape the penitentiary that was her lacrimal gland.

"Yes." She verifies quietly.

"Are you sure?" He asks anxiously. It took her some time to reply.

"Now that you're here, I'm much better."

Astonished by her response, Bart's mouth opens a bit, no sound coming out. The environment felt so tense and nerve-wracking, but that mere statement brought a wave of solace among him.

They smile at each other, albeit a tad crookedly. What mattered most was that they were smiling.

"Bart..." Ms. Tindol whispers, the pleasantness and composure she habitually possessed finally showing in her voice.

"Ms. Tindol..." Bart murmurs softly. "I'm so glad that you're here. I mean, I'm not glad that you're _here,_ I'm just... Wh-What I mean is..."

Ms. Tindol couldn't help but grin as Bart awkwardly tried to formulate his sentence. She missed those occasional moments of bashfulness he displayed around her.

He clears his throat. "I'm... Really happy to see you."

"I'm happy to see you too." She beams, her voice as quiet as a mouse.

From there, the two of them weren't exactly sure where to go with their conversation. They were off to a good start, now if only they knew how to keep it going strong.

Bart, still blinded by elation, went into a chatting frenzy. "Ms. T! I have so much to tell you! So much has happened since you left! It feels like you've been gone for months! No, wait, years! No, centuries! Millenniums! I don't even no where to start! I just, I just-!" he gasps and his prattling came to a halt.

This abrupt stop catches Ms. Tindol off guard.

"Is something the matter?" She quickly inquires. She doesn't receive a reply to her question, but rather a completely unrelated statement.

"Ms. Tindol..." He begins, trembling. "Y-You're pregnant." He had just now remembered.

For some reason, Ms. Tindol's smile dropped a tad when he mentioned that.

"Yes, I am." She confirms, holding her hands together in her lap.

The boy curiously glances at her tummy. "Woah... Does that mean there's a baby in your gut?"

"Well, sort of." She giggles at Bart's naivete. "It's not a baby quite yet, just a teeny tiny embryo."

Bart moves in closer so he can get a better look at her stomach. "You don't look very pregnant."

She giggles a second time. " _Adorable._ " She says to herself in her head. "You won't be able to tell for the first few weeks, I'm only on my first trimester."

He tried as best as he could to understand. "Oh. Can you feel it inside of you? My mom says sometimes they like to kick in there. My dad told me that if they kick hard enough, they could make an opening, and that's where preemies come from!" The more Bart went on, the more Ms. Tindol longed for her child to come out. She hoped he or she would be just like him.

She lets out a small titter and faces back down with a grin.

For some reason, Bart began to form a frown. He looks away from her belly and back up at his former teacher.

"Ms. Tindol?"

"Yes, Bart?"

He lets out a sigh. "This week's been a nightmare."

Her smile disappears, she lightly holds his arm with concern. "A nightmare? Oh, why?"

"Because..." He starts. "... You weren't there." Her eyes widen, he proceeds.

"The day I found out that you were leaving and never coming back was probably one of the worst days of my life. I don't think I want to go too much into that... From there, each day only got worse and worse. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't ignore it, it was pure torture! I had just found my purpose, only to lose it right after. I don't usually like to get all mushy like this, but... I really miss you teaching art, Ms. Tindol... I really, _really_ do..."

She continued to stare at him with astonishment. Before she could think of a reply, he kept on going.

"Sure, it hurt to know that you were leaving my life forever, but it stung even more the moment I realized that I really need you! I've never met anyone who had so much faith in me, and it just... I dunno, it made me feel special... A-And I miss that feeling, a lot..." He was beginning to have a noticeably difficult time putting his feelings into speech. "I couldn't tell anyone about how much pain I was in, and I still haven't told anyone. They won't understand... _I_ barely understand! This is so confusing!"

"Bart, I-"

"My whole life's been a living hell, Ms. Tindol. A _living hell!_ I don't think I can take it any longer. If I spend one more day without you in my life, I'll pull my hair out!"

"Bart, I just-"

"But what bothers me the most is how you never even thought to _tell_ me you were gonna leave! If I had known that the last time I saw you would be the- well, last time I saw you, I would've cherished it a whole lot more! Why, Ms. Tindol? _**Why didn't you tell me?!**_ " He shouts, not intending for it to come out so abrasively.

"Bart, I-" She stops herself. "... I'm so sorry..." She blinked back her tears, Bart began to feel a little bad for his outburst.

"I should've told you, I really should have." She admits. "It wasn't fair to you at all, and I feel so bad. It's been irking me this whole week." This caught Bart off guard. It had been bothering her as well?

"It was just so incredible. When I found out that I was going to become a mother, I didn't know how to react. There were so many emotions that came with it, I could barely take it in myself. Naturally, I freaked out. I mean... Something like a first-time pregnancy is so amazing and unbelievable, especially one that was, well, a bit unexpected..." She mumbles her last statement, blushing a whit as she did. "In the heat of the moment, I couldn't think about anything but the news. In fact, I didn't tell anybody for a while. Even I had trouble believing it was true. I suppose thrill can be blinding at times... I'm very sorry, Bart."

Now it had all made sense. At first, it was hard to look at it from the point of view of an expectant mother, but now that he heard the full story, Bart could definitely see where she was coming from.

"Mmm... It's fine..." He scratches his head. "I guess I was overreacting a little there... It just really hurt me, but at least now I know you didn't mean to."

"Of course I didn't. I would never mean to hurt you, Bart. Need I remind you, you're my star student." She adds in that last sentence to hopefully lighten the mood. It works.

Bart chuckles shyly. "Heh, yeah." He simply says.

"I'm truly glad to see you, Bart. I agree, it does feel like it's been some time." Tindol chimes.

"It feels like ages, I tell ya!" He exaggerates. "It's almost like Radioactive Man #572, _Time Doesn't Pay-_ "

Ms. Tindol cuts in. "-in which Radioactive Man and Fallout Boy get stuck in a quantum loop-"

Bart adds, "-and time just keeps going on and on, to a point where days become months and-"

"-months become years! Luckily, they were able to stop the loop, but they had to find the-"

"-Epochal Crystal of the Neverending Realm first. It seemed like a simple task at first, but then they realize-"

"-that they would first have to get through the guardian of the Neverending Realm, Wormhole the Destroyer, and after-"

"-traveling throughout the space time continuum, they finally cross paths, and-"

They speak simultaneously. "-Radioactive Man and Fallout Boy take down Wormhole and bring peace back to the world once again!"

The two of them explode into laughter, it had been some time since they had shared such a familiar moment like this.

"Ha ha, you've still got it, Ms. T." Bart smirks.

"Hehe, it's definitely been a while..." She laughs. "The last time we talked about Radioactive Man was when you showed me your new drawing of one of the covers. Was it..."

Bart clarifies. "Radioactive Man #88, _Magmo the Lava Man!_ That's gotta be somewhere on my Top 516 Radioactive Man issues."

"Yes, it's certainly a great entry in the series." Tindol agrees. "Hm, while we're on that note, how has art been lately? Learned any new concepts, practiced with any new mediums? I'd really like to see how you've improved since we last saw each other." She asks with genuine interest.

Typically, Bart was very enthusiastic at the mention of art, but due to, erm, "recent events", it didn't excite him as much as she had expected.

"Not so good..." He confesses dolefully.

Ms. Tindol's face displays a look of confusion and concern. "Why is that?"

Bart slightly shrugs and rolls his eyes to the side so he's facing away from her. "I dunno, I'm not very motivated anymore, I guess..."

This saddens her immensely. "Bart... How come? Is there something you're struggling with? I know it can be a bit frustrating to grasp onto new concepts, but you're just starting and I told you it's fine if you make a few mistakes here and there-"

"That's not why." He cuts in.

Now even more perturbed, she ask, "Then... Why?"

Bart's face lowers into a despondent pout. "Because... You aren't my teacher anymore..."

This only upsets her even more. She felt a tinge of culpability and guilt for causing the young boy so much heartache.

"Oh, Bart..." She starts in a hushed tone. "Please don't say that... It means a lot to me to know that you view me so highly and treasure my belief in you so much, but I don't want to control your life. I know you're a very talented artist, but I shouldn't be the only reason you know that. I want to teach you, not manipulate you. The only person who can make you feel important is yourself, don't forget that. No matter where I am, no matter where you are, I'll still be confident in your abilities, and I'm certain I'm not the only one, Bart. You'll be fine on your own, I promise you that."

"But, Ms. Tindol... If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't even be here." He sighs.

"I won't deny that. I definitely played a part in bringing out your gift, but now that I've brought it out, it's up to _you_ to carry it on. It would mean so much to me and it would mean even more to you. Do you know what I like about you, Bart?"

"My amazingness? My cunning wits? My charming good looks?" He flashes a cheesy smile.

 _ **(A/N: I am well aware that "amazingness" isn't a word, but I sincerely doubt a 10-year-old would consider that.)**_

"While those are all great things." She chortles with a brief eye roll. "What I especially admire is how freethinking you are. You're a revolutionary, a maverick. You don't need anybody to tell you how to act or what to do."

"That's right!" He chimes in.

"Of course, there can be some disadvantages that come with this..." She explains, hinting at his penchant for causing mischief. "But as an artist, that's an incredible thing. You're so self-reliant, as are many well-known artists. You exemplify that in your artwork, no doubt, but I need you to exemplify that in your mindset. Since you're so independent in your pieces, I know you can be just as independent in your thinking. I brought your artistic ability out, I hope I can bring this out too."

He processes everything she had told him and understood. He nods. "Ok." Bart states.

"Remember, I'm always open to help you whenever you need it, but I'm positive you can utilize that help on your own. Do you remember that painting you made on my first day teaching your class?" She asks.

"Mmhm."

"I gave you some tips, didn't I?"

"Yeah."

"But I didn't touch that canvas once."

"I guess you didn't..."

"Exactly." She wholeheartedly smiles at him. "Do you understand?"

"I think so..." Bart responds. "Thanks, Ms. Tindol."

"Anytime, kid." She playfully tousles his hair, which he simpers at.

She holds her grin, and keeps talking. "I still can't believe you missed me so much. I'm very flattered. You don't come off as the most 'fervent' person."

He sheepishly contorts his face "I didn't miss you _that_ much." This was a patent fib.

Tindol went with it. "Well, I missed you _very_ much. You were a delight to have in my class. Without you, I don't think I'd be able to teach without zoning out completely."

"Yeah, I'm kind of the life of the party." Bart claims with an arrogant sneer. "Every class needs a comedian."

Most teachers wouldn't admit this, but he was right.

Ms. Tindol nods in agreement. "Imagine teaching a class that was full of nothing but 'Martins'."

They both shudder at the thought.

"Just don't tell him I said that." She urges with a nervous grin.

"My lips are shut." He assures. "Besides, you promised to keep my secret, it'd only be fair if I kept yours."

"Secret?" She had nearly forgotten. "Oh, right. El Barto."

"Mmhm, that's it." Bart stands up and turns himself around so he's facing the back of the apartment they had been sitting in front of. Just like every other one in the alley, it had been harshly vandalized with graffiti. Any onlooker would have seen it as disrespectful, maybe even glace at it with contempt, but the avant-garde Bart could only stare in awe.

"Wow!" He holds out, his mouth gaped open in reverence. "That's so cool! How the hell did they do that?"

The graffiti was very neat and well-done. The lines were firm, clean, and thick. The bright colors and bold letters definitely made the dreary neighborhood stand out, albeit in a rather vulgar way.

Ms. Tindol turns her back as well to face the art. "It _does_ look nice, doesn't it? It's too bad most people wouldn't see it that way."

Bart moves closer to the large mural and grins from ear to ear. "That's awesome. I wish I could do my graffiti like that." As just about everybody knew, Bart's art tended to lean more towards the simplistic, one-dimensional side. He hadn't seen much of a problem with it until he started to really get into art and realized he wasn't as good as he had initially thought.

"Don't aspire to be them, Bart. Aspire to be _better_ than them." She encourages, reaching up to place her hand on his shoulder. "With a talent like yours, I know you can do it. Remember what I told your class? If you want to improve as an artist..."

"... Just draw." He finishes.

"That's right. Just draw."

Bart sits back down. "It's really hard to improve, Ms. Tindol... I don't think I've gotten all that better."

"I beg to differ. I've definitely noticed an improvement." She states.

"You're just saying that, I bet."

"Would I ever lie to you?" She rhetorically asks.

He murmurs, looking down at his knees.

"It'll surely take some time to notice any drastic changes, but trust me, they're coming." She guarantees. "Would you believe me if I told you that I didn't always draw like I do now?"

"Yes..." He says.

"It won't happen overnight, Bart."

"I guess you're right." Bart accepts. "Hey, is there anymore graffiti near here?"

"A ton." She answers. "It almost feels like a museum."

" _That's one way to put it..._ " He mumbles. Talk about optimistic. "Do you really like it here?"

Her glee had dissipated slightly. "To be honest, no, not really. I miss my home in Shelbyville."

"Shelbyville? Ah, those guys are jerks." Bart scowls.

"That's funny. Before moving here, I thought all Springfielders were jerks." She remarks. "Boy, was I wrong." She smiles at Bart sweetly, he recoils shyly.

"Well... Then I guess not... _Everyone_ from Shelbyville is a complete dorkwad..." He mumbles timidly. Ms. Tindol briefly giggles under her breath.

Bart queries, "So, why don't you like it here?"

Before she can get her answer out, loud gunshots are overheard, along with some crashing and banging, a few crowbar hits, immediately followed by some rather "crass" dialogue.

"Does that answer your question?" She inquires.

Bart nods quickly. "Mmhm." He goes on to say, "Then, why did move here?"

She becomes a little uncomfortable. "My boyfriend lives here. I moved in with him when I came here, but... I don't know if I should get too into that."

"I understand." He says.

For some reason, Ms. Tindol doesn't reply back, and is quiet for a few seconds as if she's trying to collect herself. She was facing away and Bart could here her uneasily murmuring under her breath. Before Bart can question why she suddenly became mute, she speaks.

"Bart?" Her voice sounded a bit off.

"Yeah?" He says.

"I... I just wanted to say thank you..."

Muddled, he asks, "For what?"

"For staying and trying to help me... It really means a lot to know that you care." She starts sniffling again, holding back her tears.

"Oh... Well, it's no problem." He answers, not wanting to come off as too mawkish. "It'd be a pretty jerky thing if I just left you..."

She doesn't respond, and just then, Bart realizes something. He wasn't sure if this would be a good time to mention it, but he was too curious to just leave it be.

"... Ms. Tindol? C-Can I... Ask you something?"

She turns to look at him, ready for his question.

"Why were you crying when I found you?"

She had prayed he had forgotten about that. Ms. Tindol felt herself trembling, and as much as she didn't want to, she bursts into an abundance of tears yet again. He had never heard her wail so loudly before, and it alarmed him exceedingly.

"Ms. Tindol?!" He exclaims with urgency. "Ms. Tindol! Wh-Why are you-"

"Bart, leave. Please." She requests, barely audible through her deafening bawling.

"What's the matter?" He questions worriedly. "Please tell me!"

She just keeps crying. What could possibly make somebody this miserable?

"Ms. Tindol, I-"

"Bart!" She lifts her head from her hands abruptly to face him, her red eyes dripping with tears. "I don't want to bring you into this! Please, just listen to me! Go home! I beg you, you shouldn't have to be a part of this. It wouldn't be right of me."

He was beginning to get stressed. "No! I wanna help! If you just tell me what the problem is-"

"No! Listen to me, _please!_ " She was now begging. "Just go, now."

"Ms. Tindol-"

"Go, please!"

"B-But, Ms. Tindol-"

"You don't have to stay here, just leave!"

"Ms. Tindol, I just-"

"Bart, if you know what's good for you-"

" **I want to help you!** " He bursts out, his hands tightly gripped onto her shoulders. She gasps, caught by surprise at his forward exclamation.

He begins to silently pant, and so did she. Her eyes had widened and her pupils had shrunk. All of this panting and staring went on for an entire minute. By then, they had both cooled down a bit.

"Please... Ms. Tindol..." Bart whispers, his voice getting choked up in the process of speaking.

Without a word, she continues to stare at him, tears still building up in her eyes. It came as a surprise to both of them how well Bart was handling such an intense situation. It showed just how much he had matured in the past week.

He allows her a few more seconds to collect herself, her heavy breathing had slowed, and eventually she went silent.

She lets out a sigh. "Ok, I'll tell you."

Bart removes his hands from her shoulders and prepares himself for an explanation.

She clears out her throat and begins.

"It all started last week Tuesday. I had just arrived home after another fulfilling day of art with your class. The second I got to my apartment, I started on my usual evening routine, but for some reason, I was having a bit of a hard time focusing on what I was doing. In fact, this had been happening for a few days prior, but it had never been this prevalent before. My emotions were spiraling out of control, I felt sick to my stomach just about every other hour of the day, I felt so drowsy all the time, I had to use the bathroom a lot more often, I started craving food like mad, my back and my head were _killing_ me, and... Well, various other things I don't think a 10-year-old would be interested in hearing. I started to get really worried that it might be urgent, so I read up on the symptoms, and apparently, I was pregnant. Understandably, I had a very hard time believing this, but just to be safe, I went and purchased a tester the next day after work, and it read positive. Still, I was doubtful. So finally, I just said 'screw it', and the next day, I visited the nearest doctor. It was a rather... Unconventional experience, for lack of a better term. The first doctor I received was a moderately short Hispanic guy who said I had a malignant tumor in my brain and I should expect death in the next 48 hours... Luckily, an _actual_ doctor came into the room, did a few tests, and confirmed that I was, indeed, pregnant. I was euphoric, to say the least. But at the same time, a little worried. This was my first time ever carrying a child and I wasn't ready at _all._ Everything was just so shocking, and all of this didn't improve my focus problems in the slightest. Now I was even more occupied and worked up than before and I wasn't sure what to do at all. After taking some time to myself, I did the first thing I could think of, which was rehearse telling my boyfriend. I wasn't sure how he'd take news like this, so I had to prepare myself as best I could. I didn't tell him that Thursday. In fact, I didn't tell a single soul... Well, except your principal, who I had to inform the next day. It was really sad honestly, to think that I was just starting to get to know my students, only to have to leave them after 2 months, but it was for my baby."

"My boyfriend had no idea I was pregnant, but he did notice how strange I was acting throughout the whole week. Still too scared to tell him the news, I passed this behavior off as nothing. Afraid of his suspicions rising anymore, I did my very best to cover my pregnancy up until I was ready to tell him. I even went as far as spending the first 6 hours of my day out of our apartment so he'd think I was at work... This lasted for an entire week. Keeping this whole thing up started to become agonizing, and I realized I had to tell him sometime from now before he found out himself. Finally, I mustered up the courage to break the news to him today, and after hours of rehearsing outside of the house, I was prepared..." At this point, Bart could notice her tears creeping back up on her. "It was around 3:30, I believe. I caught him in our living room and told him I had something to tell him that I had been meaning to for some time now. In spite of my multiple rehearsals, saying it to his face was extremely difficult and I couldn't get a single sentence out without stuttering 90% of the words. Reasonably, he began to lose his patience at all of the filler and ordered me to spit it out. I hesitated, but realizing there was no turning back from here, I did as he commanded and told him that I was carrying his child... And, well... He wasn't too happy about it." She sniffs back her tears.

"Based off his reaction, you could tell he was much more unprepared than I was. The way he screamed and yelled at me, the words he used, it was horrifying... I-I had never seen him so furious! He was very displeased with the delay of the announcement, but he was even more infuriated with the idea of me being pregnant. I... I _really_ don't want to get into too much detail, Bart, because you shouldn't have to be subjected to knowing what he did to me." Such a statement only heightened the boy's curiosity. "I tried to apologize, but he only ignored me. He believed I manipulated him, which definitely wasn't my intention. He even started to deny that it was his child, which only broke my heart all the more. When I thought it couldn't get any worse, he then gave me two choices: get rid of the child or leave and never come back. To chose between my unborn child and my boyfriend, shelter, food, and just about everything else in my life wasn't easy at all. Naturally, I broke down into tears. I had never been faced with such a decision in my life, so my response was warranted. This only made him madder, and he demanded an answer. I immediately told him that I wasn't getting rid of our child, he cringed at such a pronoun. He just kept yelling and yelling, I couldn't take another second of it. He gave me another chance to think about my answer, and I gave him the same one... As you'd expect, he was very unhappy with me, and without a hint of hesitation, ordered me out of the house... I begged him to think it through, but he didn't want to hear it. My whole life was crashing down before my very eyes, and I just prayed that this was all some kind of twisted, stress-induced nightmare. Unfortunately, this wasn't the case. He told me we were over and demanded that I leave and never even think about coming back. The least I could ask for was my things before departing, but that probably wasn't the smartest idea in hindsight, as he became even _more_ enraged that I asked him. Without a second thought, he shoved me out the door and slammed it shut. I was frightened, I had no where to go, and the only thing I could think of doing was letting it all out, so I sought to find a more secluded area and... Well, here I am... Hopefully that answers your question."

And she concluded.

To say Bart was taken aback would be a _severe_ understatement.

He couldn't believe what he had heard, he didn't want to believe what he had heard, but unfortunately, he _had_ to believe what he had heard, because it all happened.

Listening to the whole thing was harrowing enough, but it hurt Bart even more each time he reminded himself that it wasn't fictitious. He thought his week had been bad, but after perceiving what Ms. Tindol had to go through, he realized just how good he had it. He would have never imagined that to be the reason for her weeping, for he was unable to think of something that awful (and he had come up with some pretty awful causes). He just couldn't believe it happened and realized that if he hadn't run into her today, she would have been, for lack of a better term, terribly screwed. Bart wasn't sure whether to feel immense pity for poor Ms. Tindol or unfathomable detest for her heartless ex-boyfriend.

It took him a good while to make out a response to her story after she had finished telling it.

He still had his eyes locked on the disheartened woman, who had faced down at her knees. "M-Ms. Tindol... Did all of that... Really happen...?"

Holding back her tears, she nods.

Bart wasn't the most saccharine child, but at that moment, the only thing he wanted to do was give her a big, comforting hug. However, he doesn't, too terrified to do anything. What scared him the most was the fact that Ms. Tindol purposely refrained from going into too much detail, and if the lengthy monologue she had just told him was as vague as she could put it, he could only imagine what else took place that she wasn't letting him in on. He tried not to think too much about it, but it wasn't easy.

All he could do at this point was be as empathetic as possible.

"Ms. Tindol... I'm really sorry..." He mutters sadly. "You didn't deserve any of that..."

"Thank you, Bart. But you don't need to apologize for anything." Ms. Tindol croaks.

"I can't believe someone can be so cruel, and that's coming from me." Bart says. "He's just such a... Jerk." He had to abstain from using the hundreds of vulgar names he had in mind.

"Don't worry about him." She tells Bart. "I'd prefer not to speak of him anymore."

Bart understood, but at the same time, he didn't just want to let what he did to her go under the rug. It made him furious to think that he had just gotten away with something like that. Bart almost wished he was in Ms. Tindol's place, because if he were, he'd do everything in his power to make him suffer as payback. But he knew Ms. Tindol wasn't vengeful enough to do that.

"So..." He begins "... You don't have anywhere to go?"

She nods her head "no", as confirmation.

"Nowhere? N-Not even a family member to stay with...?" He questions restlessly.

"No one in my family lives anywhere near here." She sighs. "Besides, I'd rather not tell them what happened. I don't think they'd respect me very much."

"Oh..." He mumbles. "D-Don't you have any friends here that you could live with?"

She nods "no". "The only people here I know are my ex-boyfriend and the people at your school."

Bart gulps. "Oh, man...Y-You can't buy a new apartment?" He asks, evidently clueless as to how things like that worked.

"I don't have any money." She answers. "It's all with him."

Bart's worries began to grow. He had never been faced with such a hellish situation in his life. After all, he was only ten. He couldn't think of a single solution to her problem, and every solution he _did_ come up with wouldn't work for one reason or another.

He tries again. "Erm... W-Well have you tried-"

She cuts him off. "Bart, I know you're trying to help, but I really don't want to bother you with this. You're just a kid, I feel bad for even telling you in the first place..."

"But, Ms. Tindol! I really wanna help you!" He pleads.

"I know, and I appreciate it very much, but you need to understand that-"

"Ms. Tindol! Please?"

"Bart..." She begins, with a hint of sternness in her voice. "The only thing I can ask of you is to go back home. It's been a pleasure seeing you again and I wish we could've spent more time with each other, but as they say, all good things must come to an end. You're a wonderful child, and it wouldn't be right of me to force you to suffer with me. You go on, now."

Now he felt even worse.

He always tried to respect Ms. Tindol's decisions, but this time, he couldn't let it slide. He knew he had to do something, despite her implorations. She had been helping him since the day they had met, and he felt indebted to her. He even had to think about her baby, and realized that they needed a home as well, or else they may not make it out alive. He thought, what kind of a person would he be if he didn't help out a friend in need? Especially a friend who has always been there for him, even in his most troubling times.

" _Think, Bart, think._ " He thinks to himself, straining his brain as he did. " _What can you do to help? You can't just go back home, I don't care what she says. She needs help, and bad. But what can I do? Like she said, I'm only a kid. What can a 10-year-old do in a situation like this? I don't even know where babies come from, and now I have to find a way to keep one and its mother alive? Ay caramba..._"

He looks back at her. She still faced him, her eyes non-verbally begging him to heed her advice and head back home. He frowns.

" _This is so hard... I used up every idea I had! C'mon, brain! I know we don't usually talk, but I really need you now!"_

He dug deep in his head and tried to pluck out another idea, but his mind was empty. He knew there was some way to fix this problem, if only he knew what that way was. He felt like it was somewhere in there, but it was just hiding from him. Now all he had to do was find that pesky idea, hidden away somewhere in that cranial compartment of his.

" _C'mon, I know you're in there somewhere._ " He says internally. " _Just come out so we can go home, and you can go back to never lifting a finger again._ "

It must've picked a pretty good hiding spot, because it seemed like it was nowhere in sight.

Ms. Tindol took notice of the uneasy expression Bart wore on his face, greatly concerning her. She hated seeing Bart stress so much, especially since he wasn't very prone to stress in general.

"Bart, please!" She urges, now holding onto _his_ shoulders. "Stop thinking about it, don't worry. You're only a child, you shouldn't have to carry such a burden on your shoulders. I highly advise you to go back home."

Too absorbed in his own thoughts, he doesn't reply back.

"... Bart?" She tries to get his attention. "Bart, can you hear me?!"

Just then, he found it. He found that brilliant idea.

Almost instantly, his petrified expressions becomes a massive, almost frightening grin that utilized every one of his pearly whites.

"Ms. Tindol!" He eagerly beams. She was very much caught off guard by his sudden change of emotion.

"Y-Yes...?" She responds with clear perplexity.

"Ms. Tindol!" He repeats, even more excited.

"Yes? Y-Yes?" She couldn't help but smile a bit at the corner of her mouth.

Bart got even closer towards her, gripping at her shoulders. "Ms. Tindol! Ms. Tindol! Ms. Tindol!" He was practically shaking her.

"Yes? Yes, Bart? _What is it?_ " She was now laughing.

" _You can live with me!_ "

This suggestion shocked her, and her smile dropped.

"... Oh... Bart..." She starts.

"It's a great idea, right?" He asks, oblivious to her discomfort.

"Well..."

He noticed she wasn't smiling anymore, and he began to frown. "What's the matter? Why aren't you happy? It's the perfect idea, isn't it?"

She sighs, looking down.

"Bart... Like I said, I really appreciate the offer to help, but..."

"But...?" He was waiting to hear her opposition, as he believed his proposal was foolproof.

"I just don't think-... I mean, it's on such short notice-"

"That's fine!" He cuts in.

"I just don't want to intrude-"

"You won't! I promise!"

"It wouldn't be very respectful of me to just barge in-"

"Ms. Tindol, don't worry! I _want_ you to stay, because I want to help you!" Bart assures.

"Bart, I don't think I can just move in with one of my students..." She explains. "Not to mention, your parents most likely wouldn't appreciate an unexpected guest moving in with them."

"They won't mind, I swear!" Bart lies. Deep down, he knew neither of his parents would be too happy to see that Bart's brought home a seemingly random lady from off the street to live with them. He chose to disregard these thoughts, as he direly wanted to help his teacher.

"My mom loves having guests over. My dad, he'll probably be too cockeyed to even notice you're there anyways."

Ms. Tindol makes a face of uncertainty. "Mmmm... Bart, I still don't know if that's a very good idea..."

"Trust me, I _always_ come up with good ideas." Debatable.

She rests her hand on Bart's shoulder and looks at him sorrowfully.

"Bart, I want you to listen to me. I know you just want to help. It means so much to know that you care. Just _knowing_ you want the best for me is enough, I assure you. I'm... Sure I'll find a way out of this, somehow." She was very dubious about her last sentence. "Run along now, ok? I'm certain your parents are very worried about you."

After he was sure that she had finished speaking, Bart held onto her with an equal amount of sympathy and began his own speech.

"Ms. Tindol, now I want _you_ to listen. I know I've been kind of pushy, but it's just because I want what's best for you, because... I really, _really_ care about you, and yeah, maybe I _did_ miss you a lot... But who could blame me? You've helped me through thick and thin, and I don't think I'd have gotten anywhere with my artistic gift if I hadn't met you. I'm not too good with all this 'schmaltzy cornball' crap, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that, I'd do almost anything for you, because, well... You mean a whole lot to me..." Usually, the mere mention of sentimental topics made Bart gag and retch in disgust. Strangely, he wasn't. The only other people Bart felt this way about was his family, even if he didn't like to admit it. (Yes, even that bonehead, Homer...)

"Ms. T, I don't have any problem with you living with me, and I'm sure my folks won't either. My parents are really glad that I'm too busy with art to bother them with my pranks and I'm sure they've been dying to meet the person who saved their patience. My sister's always telling me about the compliments you give her in class, so much that it's gotten annoying... My baby sister, meh, she doesn't have too much of an opinion on things anyways. What I'm saying is, we welcome you with open arms. It's the least I can do after all you've been through. Plus, you're pregnant. Now I don't know a lick about how _that_ works, but I'm pretty sure it's not safe for you both to be wandering out in the cold. I don't want you to feel bad or that you're taking too much from me, because you're not. If anything, I'd say we'd be getting pretty even. So, what do you say? I'll give you some time to think about it."

Ms. Tindol was at a loss of words. She had never heard Bart speak so eloquently, and noticed just how much he's changed since she first met him. The same boy who endlessly mocked and belittled her on her first day at his school was now doing everything in his power to make sure she safely delivered her child. It was unbelievable, and incredibly heartwarming.

Still facing him, her lips trembled a bit as she processed what he had told her. As Bart instructed, she took her time to think about her response. A whole minute passes, and she finally speaks.

"... You..." She begins, virtually inaudible. "... Really think it won't be a problem...?"

He responds with nothing but a smile and a hand held out towards her.

She looks down at his small, flaxen palm and stares at it silently. She thinks carefully about what she was going to do. Before she could accept, she had to think of any disadvantages that would come with accepting the offer. Any drawbacks, downsides, or impediments that would make this situation any worse.

Unable to think of a single one, she looks back at him with a pleasant smile and surely takes his hand.

"Thank you, Bart." She chimes. "Thank you so much."

Bart smiled even more, the bottom of his eyes pinching a bit from his wide grin overtaking them.

"Come on, we better get going." Bart advises. Now feeling greatly satisfied, they stood up from the ground. Bart still held Ms. Tindol's hand, and she returned the favor.

"My, my, Bart. Aren't _you_ a gentleman?" She teases, directing towards his polite gesture.

"What can I say? I'm quite the ladykiller." He proudly smirks.

She places her free hand on her hip and glares down at him with comedic skepticism. "Well, you keep telling yourself that."

"I will!" He asserts obdurately.

Ms. Tindol is just about to formulate her reply back, until a booming, thunderous noise is heard in the sky. They both stiffen and give each other a look that said, "did you hear that?".

That's when Bart felt a drop of water land on his shoulder. Ms. Tindol feels one land right on her nose.

Instantaneously, rain starts pouring. Just when things were starting to go right for once that day.

However, instead of becoming disheartened, the two of them smile it off and took their ill-timed misfortune in good humor.

"Well, I'll be damned." Bart says, turning to look at his teacher.

She briefly laughs under breath, and the two commence their journey to Bart's abode.

As they started on their walk through the rain, Bart's mind immediately shot back to something that had occurred the week prior that he had been meaning to ask his teacher since hearing it. He was a bit nervous, but managed to spit it out.

"Ah... M-Ms. Tindol?" He timidly stammers.

"Yes, Bart?"

He begins twiddling his fingers out of habit. "Just wondering, when you told me all that stuff about art having no rules and my creativity being all that mattered... Y-You weren't just saying that to make me feel 'special', right?"

"Oh, Bart. Of course not. I meant every word of what I said." She assures.

"You did?" He asks.

"I promise."

Gradually, Bart is convinced. His smile returns.

"Well, ok."


	11. Update!

Hi, guys!

I know it's been a while since I posted last chapter, sorry for the wait! I didn't think it'd take this long to get out, but I've been going through a bunch of uncomfortable stuff that's really been messing with my head and doing just about _anything_ , not just writing, has become stressful. (Even basic things like breathing and blinking have become somewhat arduous for me) I was really hoping to get the next 5 chapters done before I started school again but I'm not sure if this will be possible, what with everything going on in my personal life. Sorry again, but I'd just like to sort all of this out first. I appreciate your patience and endless support, you guys always bring a smile to my face even at my most difficult times. Thank you! :)

 ** _(This will be deleted once the next chapter is posted.)_**


	12. Update! 2

Hi guys! My goodness, it's been quite a while...

My last update was August 12 of 2018, so it's almost been a full year since shedding any light on this fanfiction. Last update was about as far from optimistic as it could be, and it makes sense. I wasn't exactly a happy camper at those times and for a good while after that, too. I'm still recovering from all of it and I'm making some progress... Very slowly, but surely. What "happened" to me was truly the scariest and most stressful thing that I've ever had to deal with, and as dramatic as this may come off, I sincerely believe it scarred me for life. Like any scar, I can do whatever I can to conceal it, but nevertheless, it'll always still be there, ready to haunt me when I least want it to. I can never truly go into depth, because it's just not something I want others to fathom or bother themselves with.

As per mentioned in the last update, this "incident", we'll call it, made me quite literally terrified of writing, and deep down, I still sort of am. Writing stories has always been a task for me, even before all this mess (a lot of my readers seem to think it's my passion, but it's really more of a hobby!), but after what happened, it's been practically impossible. I feel like everything I write comes out as mediocre and when I compare it to my old writing, it makes my heart race, and _not_ in a good way. Think of it like a roller coaster... I've been gradually improving my writing all these years, only to suddenly reach my "peak", then _ZOOM!_ I decline at speeds I can't even process, until the ride eventually stops and I hop off, stuck on the level that dreaded roller coaster left me off at. I suppose I could just get back on and try again, but one time was enough, I'm too scared to take another go. I'm still too scared to load up my fanfiction and touch my fingertips to the keys of my keyboard because my conscious is telling me I'll ruin it or I'll have a mental breakdown. But I need to learn to overcome my conscious and maybe, just maybe, I'll eventually overcome this curse that's been plaguing me since yesteryear. I suppose that brings me to my point.

I've seen the reviews that have been left on the story since temporarily abandoning it and I've gotten various PMs asking about the fate of the fanfiction and if I'd ever finish it. Whenever I read any of those reviews or messages, I feel extremely sad, but happy at the same time. Sad, because it breaks my heart knowing that there are people out there who genuinely enjoy this story and come back to it every so often, only to see nothing has changed. Happy, because, well, see the last sentence. I'd just like to say thank you to everyone who's been waiting. It means so much to know that you've all been so patient and understanding of my personal life. I received a PM this morning and I think that was my breaking point. It made me realize that I don't want my pessimism and anxiety to stop me from doing a medium I've been so passionate about since middle school. I may not be an exceptional writer, but I love to write! I feel like I've wasted a whole year of my life brooding and lost it to something so, for lack of a better term, stupid. It's not fair to the people who enjoy my story and it's not fair to me, who greatly enjoyed writing it. I want to overcome my fear and get back on that roller coaster, except this time, I never want to fall from the peak. I'll keep going higher and higher, I want to reach new heights, I want to go beyond the stratosphere, I want to go so high, that I start to feel lightheaded. Then, after decades and scores of elevating, I'll touch the heavens and I'd have finally reached my peak, where my soul will stay for all eternity. (Unless I don't go to heaven... Let's just say that would be one _hell_ of a descent.) I guess I just need to start taking chances and be a bit more confident in myself. Trust me, I never once had any intentions to discontinue this fanfiction or even my Bob to the Future one from ages back, I love those stories and the people who read them. I suppose I just needed a push in the right direction, and you've all given that to me, not just the people who read my stories, but other people in my life, people who'll probably never see this (and thank god...), my teachers, my colleagues, my family, and especially my best friend. I know I'll definitely struggle at first, but it'd really be impossible to get any worse. Who knows, maybe coming back to this will make me a more confident writer again and, in turn, make me feel more confident in other things I've struggled with. Or maybe I'm just being too optimistic, heh heh.

I've been prattling for a good while now, so I better cap it off here. I don't blame any of the people who really didn't feel like reading all that drivel, so I suppose I'll just put a TL;DR that also simultaneously works as a conclusion for the people who did read everything:

So, when do I plan on continuing "The Art of Bart"?

As soon as I re-watch some seasons of The Simpsons and refresh my janky memory of the show. :)

Thank you all so much, and good riddance for now!

 _ **(This will be deleted once the next chapter is posted)**_


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